Haunting Delusions
by RobinRedoe
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the A-team tv-series. - The team is in trouble, but they don't know it yet. One of them has an inkling but isn't believed. What will happen when they don't listen to him? Will they fall into that trap? The story is a bit more centered around B.A and Murdock in the beginning. (No deaths of mayor characters included - just so you know) ;)
1. Chapter 1 - You're gonna pay!

Hey again. How have you been?I see all kinds of cool new stories in the A-team section here, and I really need to start reading the meantime, another story started bubbling in the back of my mind, and I decided to write the first chapter, which actually happens half way the huh?

Please enjoy Haunting , some drama ahead O.O

* * *

Chapter 1 - You're gonna pay!

NO!

No, it didn't just happen. Not like this!

B.A tried to keep himself calm but it was useless. His voice was hoarse from screaming. The scene in front of him held all the elements of a good horror movie.  
He was standing deep inside a dark and dramatically eery forest. Daylight was slowly fading, and it had started to rain. A lightning bolt lit up the sky and the low warning rumble of an approaching thunderstorm could be heard in the distance.

The gold-clad man swallowed hard as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was only for a second. Then he would open them again and he would know that it had all been a bad dream. Just a nightmare.  
B.A counted what must have been the longest second of his life. As raindrops started to run over his face, the bulky sergeant forced his eyes open again.  
He hardly dared to look, but he did it anyway.  
He _had_ to.

At a loss for words, B.A stared down at the lifeless form on the ground. It was still there! ... Why was it still there?!  
A dull pain in his chest made him realize that it hadn't been a dream after all. They'd shot him...

 _They shot the fool right in the head!_

"Murdock!" B.A shouted again.

As a wave of despair crept over the now frantic man, B.A struggled himself out of the grasp of the two thugs that were holding him at gunpoint. Ignoring the shouts and threats, he ran forward to his fallen comrade and landed heavily on his knees in the mud. Small speckles of dirt descended on the pilot's face, but there was no sign he'd noticed.

"Murdock, please say something!"

A distant mocking laugh could be heard, but it wasn't coming from Murdock. One of the thugs tried to grab B.A's shoulder again but a sharp voice spoke from a distance.

"Leave him. It's fine. Give him his little moment to say goodbye. He's not going anywhere,"

B.A pretended not to hear it while feverishly studying his friend. Murdock lay flat on his back in an awkward spread-eagled pose. His face was turned away from the mechanic. His hands lay palms down in the mud, and his long legs were tangled. One of his shoelaces was untied; something B.A had been nagging him about all afternoon.

"Come on, buddy! Don't mess around!" B.A tried again.

He grabbed the pilot's shoulder and shook him. First gently, then harder and harder. Triggered by the movement, Murdock's head suddenly lolled to the side. B.A's breath ragged and his heart skipped a beat as he was faced with the dull gaze from the man's partially closed eyes. They were staring unseeingly into the distance. His lips were slightly parted and his facial expression appeared somewhat bewildered as if the moment had caught him by surprise. Blood ran over his right temple and covered his ear, eyebrow and cheekbone while mingling with the increasing stream of raindrops.  
Another flash riveted through the sky, followed closely by the cracking sound of thunder. The thunderstorm was getting closer now.  
The flash of lightning shortly illuminated the scene and B.A could distinctively see the small pool of blood appear beneath Murdock's head.  
The black man gritted his teeth as the reality of the situation was finally setting in.  
Murdock wasn't going to get up. The crazy fool was gone...  
As grief filled his heart, an angry static noise was building up in his ears. He had to be sure! Just one more second!  
Trying hard to control his anger, he forced himself to put two trembling fingers on the pilot's neck, desperate to find a pulse.

"That's enough," The cold voice said.

Before B.A could even register anything that resembled a heartbeat, two pairs of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him hardhandedly back to the ground. One of the men held a knife to his throat while the other held him at gunpoint. Inside, B.A felt something snap. A big ball of fury and rage that had been building up under his skin needed a way out. They were gonna pay!

"Don't try anything! We need you to stay alive a little longer," the voice of the man sounded again.

It belonged to a tall dark man, dressed in a parka and wearing a black hat. He looked at the struggling B.A while pointing his gun at him.

Through the raindrops, B.A squinted his eyes at the man, trying hard to memorize his face in the fading sunlight. Bloodthirst filled his mind as his eyes followed the villain who calmly walked over to Murdock while making a tutting sound.

"Looks like I got him real good," he said proudly while indifferently kicking Murdock against the ribs.

"I fear your lunatic friend here is worm bait, Mr. Baracus."

The man sniggered at his own joke.  
B.A let out a savage scream. Suddenly, the rage that had been building up inside the bulky mechanic had been set free. There was only white-hot fury filling his mind as he wiggled his way out of the death grip of the two thugs and smashed them onto the ground. A thick drop of blood trickled down from his brow where one of the men had managed to cut him. But the muscular man didn't feel it. All he could feel was the anger boiling in his gut.  
The thugs quickly scrambled back to their feet, once more approaching B.A with their guns and knives.  
The cold metal glistened red in the rain while reflecting the darkening sky.  
B.A scowled menacingly. His back was hunched, his muscled tensed. He was readying himself for combat.

"Now don't do anything stupid," the villain wearing the parka warned him.

But it was way too late. There was no reasoning with B.A. He simply wasn't listening anymore. He couldn't care less about the knives, nor the bullets. He couldn't care less about anything anymore. There was no danger. There was only blind fury as he attacked his opponents with nothing more than his bare hands. He barely avoided the slashing of knives as he grabbed one of the man's arms and snapped it. The man yelled in pain as he let go of the weapon. Then the big guy launched himself on the other man who tried to dive out of his way. But too late. B.A was on top of him, giving it all he got, jabbing the man in the gut with all the fury he possessed.

BANG!

A gunshot went off.  
B.A flinched for a split second, looking up at the parka-man who'd shot at him. The man had grazed B.A's upper arm which had snapped the big guy out of his violent trance. One of B.A's victims recovered just quickly enough to plant his knife in B.A's thigh. The sergeant screamed in anger and pain as he hit the goon on the head and knocked him out immediately. He was about to snap the man's neck as he felt something made of cold metal being pressed to his forehead.

"Stop it right there," The sharp but eerily calm voice of the parka-man spoke while pushing his gun harder against B.A's skull. "Or I will have the pleasure to blow your brains out. The wanted poster said dead or alive. But I need you alive for just a little longer."

B.A froze and looked up at the man with hate-filled eyes.  
The man, seemingly unimpressed, moved his gun toward B.A's temple and ordered him to stand up. B.A snarled but did as he was ordered. Pain flared through his leg and arm which finally gave him a moment to come to his senses. His eyes found Murdock again and suddenly he felt tired. Bone tired.  
It took the still dazed crooks a minute to get back on their feet and catch their breath. However, they were very quick to restrain the big guy, painfully forcing his hands to his back and binding them with a rope.  
B.A was too devastated to protest or even notice the actions. As the men were ordered to move _the body_ out of sight, he just stood there, watching helplessly while reality slapped him hard in the face.  
One of the thugs picked up Murdock's legs and dragged him over the ground up to a mound. Panting hard, the man took a moment to lay the lifeless body down. Then he gave it a push, and slowly Murdock's body rolled into a ditch that was concealed by bushes and trees.

"The predators will take care of him," one of the men muttered while wiping his muddy hands on his pants.

Then the thugs went back to B.A's van. But when they couldn't get the engine to start, they were contemplating what to do next.

"No matter. We'll pick it up later." The parka-man said while pushing B.A hard-handedly into their own vehicle.

"Let's get back to base first. I'm getting tired of this damn rain."

A bright lightning bolt flashed through the sky, immediately followed by a clap of thunder. As they drove away, B.A stared dully into the distance. To the thugs, it appeared that he was totally out of it. Maybe he'd lost his marbles. But in his mind, he was repeating a mantra that was fueling his anger and his determination to escape and seek revenge for his fallen friend and comrade.

 _You're gonna pay,_ _You're gonna pay,_ _You're gonna pay!_

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2 - Two days earlier

* * * NOTE * * *  
Hey again.  
A new update, and I'm also trying something new in writing. I tried writing two scenes, but from different perspectives. No idea if this will work out but I hope you'll still enjoy my writings.  
This chapter is not going to explain the circumstances of the first chapter yet. But it will give you some hints of what might have happened.  
Love to hear your thoughts if you'd like to share. I am by no means a great writer but I love to learn from my mistakes.

Ohh and by the way: Have a great weekend!

* * *

Chapter 2 - Two days earlier.

2 days earlier:

* * *

There was something odd going on in the garage next to B.A's daycare.  
The big black heavily muscled man, well-known for his hot temper, his characteristic Mohawk, but most of all, his collection of golden jewelry, was _whistling_!  
And that wasn't the only thing out of the ordinary.  
Today, he was in real great spirits too!  
His customary frown was gone, his dark eyes were twinkling, and there was even a hint of a smile on his lips as he was bending over the engine of his beloved van to check the oil. If his team could see him now, their jaws might even drop a little.

The bulky mechanic got up quite early that morning to perform some last check-ups on his black van before heading out to Chicago with the team.  
They were gonna see his momma and (if circumstances allowed it) they would even stay a couple of days longer.  
The always so bubbly Mrs. B invited all four of them to come over and celebrate her belated birthday together. Hannibal gladly accepted the invitation because he knew his team was due for some time off. And knowing Mrs. B a little, he knew she was going to pamper them silly with her amazing cooking skills and motherly care.  
B.A couldn't wait to see her and close her in his bulky arms again. It had been way too long since he'd last been able to do that, and even though he would never admit it to the guys, he'd missed her dearly.  
But there was also another thing to be pleased about; They weren't flying this time!  
B.A grinned to himself.  
After some, what he believed were 'subtle' threats, B.A had managed to convince the guys that flying was out of the question this time.  
It would be great to be on the road again, even with the fool coming along. And to top it off, he would be picking up a brand new car battery and some shiny new wheel caps for the van in Chicago. He knew a place that sold the best stuff and his precious van was due to some pampering as well.  
Nope. _Nothing_ could spoil his mood today!

However, like always, things were going to change soon.  
A sharp ringing sound broke the silence in the garage. B.A looked up with a slight hint of annoyance on his face. He didn't like to be interrupted and didn't expect any calls. Especially not this early in the morning. With a sigh he got up and answered the phone.

" S' up?!" he grunted.

"Good morning to you too, B.A," The suave voice of Face sounded over the line, and before B.A could answer, the conman quickly cut to the chase.

"We got a change of plans. We're stuck at the set of Hannibal's latest Swamp-Thing movie. There were some obstacles while shooting the underwater scene and we're behind on schedule. It means that I can't leave right now. So can you pick up Murdock from the V.A in an hour?"

"..."

"B.A? Are you still there?"

"...Yeah, I'm here... I'll pick up the fool...," B.A sighed.

"Great! You're a life saver!" Face said sounding grateful.

"Remember, you don't have to break him out. He'll be waiting for you at the bus stop and... Oh, they're starting shooting again and I still need to get Hannibal back in his monster boots. Gotta run B.A!" *click*

B.A stared disbelievingly at the phone as Face promptly disconnected.  
Okay. So perhaps ' _this'_ could spoil B.A's mood a bit.  
Oh well. B.A shrugged as he walked back to the van. He would run one more quick check-up with the car battery and then he would pick up the crazy man. Damn, he hated to be rushed like this.  
At least he didn't have to be alone with the fool for too long. He didn't want his good mood gettingspoiled this early in the day.

* * *

Murdock crouched behind the door of his room at the V.A. Had he imagined it or was his mind playing tricks on him? Slowly rising from his haunches, his pointy nose reached the small window in the door. His coffee black eyes darted from left to right as he peeked through the window frame.  
He knew that his view was limited, but it was _just_ enough to make out what was happening in the hallway.

Murdock frowned.  
The coast seemed clear. Nobody was there yet, it was still too early for rush hours.  
But why did he have that nagging feeling that someone had been watching him just now?  
Murdock sighed, turned away from the door, walked over to his bed and dropped himself lazily on the thin mattress.  
Landing on his back, he folded his hands behind his head and stared back at the door again.  
Was it paranoia again? He thought he'd beaten that over the years. But the last couple of days he'd had the feeling that someone or something was actually observing him, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. Sometimes even the slight feeling of awareness made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But whenever he looked up or tried to find the culprit, there was just nothing...  
The tension that was slowly developing in his mind had caused him a couple of sleepless nights already.  
Murdock yawned long and loud as he turned over to his belly and pulled out an old faded and dog-eared book from under his pillow.  
Its title read: _Unexplained Phenomena's & Haunting omens.  
_Murdock moved over to the edge of his bed and opened it to the page he'd left off. He started reading while keeping half an eye on the door. The book had been a savior during the restless nights.  
Sure, it was a bit scary to read about hauntings ghosts and grim forewarnings in the early hours after midnight... but it had kept his mind off things.  
He wasn't sure who was watching him while he was asleep and the stories kept him wide awake.  
Murdock was just reading a particularly spine-chilling chapter ( _Death omens; a foreshadow of your own demise_ ) when the phone rang.  
The lanky man tumbled right out of bed and landed upside down on the floor.  
Bouncing up, he scrambled back to his feet and hurried to the phone.  
He had to gather all of his willpower to NOT answer with a blood-curdling howl this time. Knowing that the Faceman (of course, he already knew it was Face) wouldn't really appreciate the gesture.

Instead, he answered with a calm nasal voice saying: _"After the tone, you will hear the latest hits of Fritz Freud Friedrich from the album 'Yodeling in Lederhosen' - Beeeep...,_ "

"WAIT! MURDOCK!" Face practically screamed over the line, trying to prevent his friend from giving him a private yodeling concert. He knew that it would be a challenge to stop the crazy man once he'd started singing. There would be _no way_ of interrupting him.

"Heyyy, what's the craic, Faceman!" Murdock smirked, knowing very well that he'd just given his friend a small heart attack.

"Heya, buddy," Face said, clearly sounding relieved. "Things aren't going as planned here at the set, so I can't spring you from the hospital. You'll have to break out yourself. B.A will be picking you up in an hour at the busstop. You still have the box I sent you?"

"Zhe box?" Murdock answered with a sudden thick French accent.

"Do you mean zhe Mystery box? Zhe box of obscured contents? Zhe box wieth a certien je ne sais quoi? Zhe box..."

"Murdooock...", Face interrupted him while dragging the name of his friend impatiently.

"I haz iet!" Murdock confirmed.

Face clearly let out a long sigh over the line.

"Don't you worry, oh master of countenance. I know what to do," Murdock whispered while suspiciously glancing at his door. "Sooo Adios!" he added, disconnecting the phone without further ado.  
After hanging up, he raced to his door and peeked into the hallway again. Nothing... But why did he have that feeling? What was causing this?  
When the lanky pilot was sure nobody was there, he spun around to his bed and made a calculated dive underneath the mattress. After some fumbling, he quickly produced a large flat rather crumbled box. Revealing its contents, his eyes started shining.

"Ohh...zhis wiel be fun," he chuckled darkly.

* * *

B.A was getting more aggravated by the minute.  
Where was that fool!  
He'd passed the bus stop for the third time now, and _still_ the man hadn't shown up. He was getting worried. Faceman did say he would be there waiting for him at the bus stop, right?  
All he saw was an old lady clutching a floral printed shopping bag. She was standing with a rather rigid posture waiting for the bus. But besides some random pedestrians, there was nobody else.  
B.A decided to drive around the block one more time. If he didn't see Murdock, he would have to call Face for advice.  
Grumbling to himself, the by now grumpy mechanic turned the corner once again and started another round around the block.  
As he passed the bus stop for the fourth time, he drove very slowly to be sure that he wasn't missing anything. He noticed that the old lady was still standing there rather stiffly in the same pose she'd been a couple of minutes ago.  
Scrutinizing her, B.A thought she was rather tall for a _littl' ol' lady._  
When he had a better look at her, he suddenly noticed a pair of familiar Chuck Taylors peeking out from under her dress.  
In a moment of clarity, B.A's gaze snapped right up to the lady's face. Two dark eyes gawked back at him with an expectant gaze. B.A could almost see them twinkle from behind a pair of glasses. Then it hit him!

Cursing loudly, B.A hit the brake, leaned over to open the passenger's door and shouted: "GET IN FOOL!"

The old lady produced a little squeal as she lifted her skirt up to her knees (revealing beige khakis) and bolted towards the van.  
Before stepping in, B.A saw the lanky man pause briefly to look over his shoulder. A nervous glance played over his features, even though it was only for a second. Then his features relaxed a little and a big smile spread across his face.

"Heya big guy! Missed me?" Murdock laughed as he hopped into the passenger's seat and closed the door.  
He revealed a toothy grin from under his curly wig as he started shredding his disguise and pulled his jacket and cap from the big shopping bag.

"I thought you'd never find me!" Murdock added, tapping the big guy hard on the shoulder (unaware of the rapidly chilling mood in the van).

"Find me?" B.A thought. The fool was probably thinking it was a game of hide-and-seek again!

B.A shot the crazy man an icy glare as he moved the van away from the bus stop with shrieking tires. He was already starting to develop a nasty headache.

"Face sent me the best disguise _ever_." Murdock rattled on while pulling on his pilot jacket. "And the orderlies didn't even give me a second glance when I left. I simply walked out!"

B.A sighed. The babbling wouldn't stop for a while.

"Not that I encountered many orderlies, though..." Murdock continued. "Actually, ... no one seemed to be around when I left!"

Murdock suddenly paused, seemingly contemplating this bit of information and biting the bottom of his lip while deep in thought.  
Then he shifted in his chair to peek into the side mirror of the van and froze.  
B.A noticed the sudden silence of the man and looked sideways.  
Murdock's grin had vanished, and his posture was tense as he seemed to be staring at something that was happening behind them.  
B.A checked his own mirrors but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just traffic pulling up.

"Something wrong?" B.A grunted.

The fidgety pilot was already starting to make him really nervous.

"Yes...er _no_ , I mean no..," Murdock stuttered, sitting back in his chair and looking slightly disoriented.  
"Just space hamsters," he added with a faint smile, watching the mechanic.

B.A shrugged, his scowl returning to his face.  
"Ain't such thing as space hamsters!" he grunted sharply.  
Then he concentrated on the road again.

* * *

Murdock had been standing at the bus stop for almost half an hour now, trying his best not to burst out into a giggly fit.  
This must've been the best disguise ever! Face had really outdone himself with his mystery box this time.  
Dressed in a curly wig, a fancy straw hat, and a long flowery dress that was a tad bit too short for the lanky man, Murdock watched the van passing by for the third time. It was getting harder and harder to keep his face straight.  
He was counting now. How many blocks did B.A have to drive before he would finally recognize him? Murdock was having the time of his life. This was the _best_ hide-and-seek game he'd played in years.

Ha! There he is again!  
Noticing the van, Murdock promptly composed himself into a rather rigid pose and stood very still while holding a big ugly lady-bag (that complimented his floral dress) in front of his chest. Only his eyes were moving as they followed the nearing van. He could see a desperate B.A searching the sidewalk for any signs of the captain. And by the looks of it, he was getting rather annoyed that he still hadn't found him yet.  
While slowly passing by, B.A's gaze lingered a little longer on the pilot. Murdock watched the man expectantly but didn't move a muscle.  
Suddenly B.A jerked his head, and their eyes finally met.  
Murdock clenched his lips together to prevent himself from snorting out loud. That look of recognition in B.A's eyes. PRECIOUS!  
The van stopped with a shriek and the passenger's door swung open.

"GET IN, FOOL" B.A barked.

Murdock didn't have to be told twice. With a happy squeal, he made his way to the van.  
Before hopping in though, he glanced over his shoulder at the traffic behind them. He could've sworn there had been a car following the van the last three times that B.A had passed the bus stop. But as he surveyed the road, the car seemed to have vanished.  
Murdock shrugged. Maybe he'd just imagined it.

"Heya big guy! Missed me?" Murdock said while climbing into his seat and feeling all chipper to see his friend again. As he shredded out of his disguise, he tapped the broad man enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"I thought you'd _never_ find me!"

As Murdock rattled on about his disguise, he realized how glad he was to be out of the hospital. He was really starting to get paranoia there.

"Face sent me the best disguise ever! And the orderlies didn't even give me a second glance when I left. I simply walked out! Not that I encountered many orderlies, though... Actually, ... no one seemed to be around when I left"

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Murdock bit his lip as he realized that it had seemed a bit odd that he didn't encounter anyone while breaking out. It surely had taken a bit of the fun out of it all. He'd simply pick-locked his door, left his room and marched straight toward the exit.  
The psychiatric ward had been deserted. And the few people who he _did_ encounter in the hallway of the hospital, weren't suspicious about tall old ladies wearing sneakers under their dress.  
Involuntarily, Murdock's eyes found their way to the side mirror of the van and froze.  
There! Did he really see it, or was he imagining it? That car… A dark blue four-door sedan with a broken headlight... He was sure that it was the same one following the van earlier.  
Squeezing his eyes shut for a second he tried to compose himself. He was getting really nervous about this situation. When he opened his eyes he looked in the mirror again, his eyes scanning the road behind them. But nothing.  
The car was gone. Vanished between the traffic perhaps? Or maybe it wasn't really there to begin with.  
Murdock exhaled slowly.

"Something wrong?" B.A grunted.

Murdock startled at the sudden sound of B.A's voice. The big man hadn't sounded unkindly, though the pilot recognized the sharp edge in it.

"Yes...er _no_ , I mean no..," Murdock stuttered, wondering what to tell the big guy.

He wasn't sure if he should share his worries with B.A yet. He wasn't even sure if it was his own head playing tricks on him or not.  
The big guy would probably write it off as paranoia or tell him that he was seeing things that weren't really there.  
Murdock made a quick decision.

"Just space hamsters", he said quickly.

B.A immediately shot him an annoyed glance.

"Ain't such thing as space hamsters!" was the sharp reply as the bulky mechanic concentrated on the road again.

"See? Murdock told himself silently while staring sulkily at the traffic in front of them. That was exactly what he'd expected B.A to say.  
Maybe it was better not telling him anything.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3 - When dogs howl

**Chapters: When dogs howl**

* * *

As B.A maneuvered the van through the busy traffic of L.A, he started to wonder how long his formerly ' _good mood_ ' would withstand the day. He could almost _feel_ it crumbling down piece by piece the longer he had to listen to this jibber jabber.

Murdock had dug up his 'Unexplained Phenomena's & Haunting Omens' book from his shopper bag and had started describing some of the more juicier details of haunting spirits and death omens to his bulky friend.  
B.A, who was a man with a slightly superstitious mind when it came to occult matters, couldn't help but feel _very_ uncomfortable having to listen to Murdock's stories.  
With great effort, he'd fought back the urge to jerk the book out of the fools hands and throw it out of the window.  
The only reason he hadn't was the fact that he'd noticed that the fidgety pilot had calmed down the moment he'd opened the book on his lap  
So instead, the mechanic remained placid (sort of) and grumpily endured the happy chatter from his teammate about the most gruesome of subjects.  
As Murdock searched for another bone-chilling chapter to share, an involuntary shudder ran down his spine.

"I bet you'll love this one, B.A,"

"Bet I don't!"

"...There is this _very_ interesting chapter about dog omens!" Murdock said, happily ignoring B.A's remark while searching the page for the right paragraph.

"Ah, here it is!"

B.A sighed and mentally braced himself as Murdock cleared his throat.

"I quote: "It is believed that when a dog howls, it will try to tell you that someone's time has come or is very close to death. If the dog howls twice, death is coming for a male. If the dog howls three times, it's a woman. If the dog looks at _you_ when it howls, then death will find you soon!  
Wow... I mean, WOW!" Murdock exclaimed with childish excitement.

"That's some scary stuff right there, don't ya think?"

B.A merely snarled. He wasn't going to admit it, but he thought it was a little scary indeed.

"You figure Billy could do that, big guy?" Murdock wondered with a pensive stare at the road.

"Sense someone's expiration date, I mean? I don't think I've ever heard him howl before... Yes, barking and whining. Sure! But howling?"

Murdock pulled up his knees and planted both feet on the dashboard as he scanned the book for another interesting quote.

"And here it also says that a dog who stares and growls at nothing in particular is seeing a ghost or a demon! And if you look right between their ears, you might be able to catch a glimpse of it too!"

Murdock looked at B.A with widened eyes and a serious look on his face.

" And you know what?"

"Don't wanna know,"

"I've seen Billy growling at _nothing_ a couple of times." Murdock went on.

"Of course, I immediately tried to look between his ears, but all I could see was Colonel Whipsheen sneaking salt into Captain Spaulding's cup of coffee again. So I guess that doesn't count."

Murdock chuckled as he closed the book.

"That's kinda funny, right?"

"No it ain't. Now Get your feet off my dashboard!" B.A snapped as he swatted at Murdock's legs while trying to keep his rising temper down.

"And tie your shoe lace. You'll break your neck!" he growled.

"Only if you say 'please'," Murdock mocked, folding his arms with an obstinate look on his face, clearly with no intention to obey the man.

However, the menacing snarl that followed made him jump and tie the shoe lace in question within a nanosecond (which must've been a new personal record).

To B.A's relief, they soon arrived at the Studios.  
The mechanic parked the van in a well-hidden spot and urged Murdock to hurry as they stepped out.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a minute," Murdock said while sticking his book under his arm.

In the brief moment that followed, his cheerful demeanor had changed again. He seemed to be on his guard as his eyes scanned the road cautiously.

B.A eyed Murdock suspiciously but as their eyes met, he simply received a faint grin from the lanky man.  
The mechanic scrutinized his friend for another second, then shrugged and made his way to the trailers while muttering: "Crazy fool".

As B.A sauntered through the small trailer camp, he wondered about the pilot's latest antics. The man seemed on edge, nervous, but apparently wasn't ready to talk about it. It made B.A check his surroundings even more than usual. But he saw nothing suspicious.

"He's just bein' a dumb fool," he muttered again.

"Hey B.A, we are here!" A familiar voice broke B.A from his thoughts.

B.A turned around to see Face waving at him from one of the trailers.  
Hannibal was sitting on the steps of the door opening, dressed as the Swamp Thing (though without its head), while happily smoking a cigar.  
He waved a chipper, long and pointy claw at B.A, who made a beeline to the trailer with half a smirk on his face. How the colonel always managed to hold a cigar between those big fat monster fingers remained a mystery to him.

"Where's Murdock, I thought you'd pick him up?" Face said, suddenly sounding alarmed and peeking over B.A's shoulder in search for their pilot.

"You didn't ditch him, did you?" He asked suspiciously.

"Fool's back at the van. Being all crazy again." B.A muttered.

"What do you mean?" Hannibal asked while casually clenching the cigar between his teeth and standing up to stretch his legs.

B.A shrugged.

"Just being jumpy 'bout somethin'. He acts like somethin's following us. But I checked. I didn't see nothin'. I asked and he said they was space hamsters. That crazy fool's just seein' things again.."

Hannibal frowned.

"Hmm, Let me talk to him," Face said while turning around to head for the van.

"Maybe he can tell me what's wrong. Hannibal will update you about our slight change of plans,"

B.A moaned as Face left to find Murdock. A change of plans? Whatever it was, he already knew he wasn't going to like it.

* * *

As Face neared the van, he surveyed the place while looking for his friend. Where was Murdock?  
Checking the van, he noticed it was locked. Maybe the lanky man was hiding in the bushes. As Face scanned the shrubbery, he finally spotted the tip of a blue baseball cap. Making his way to meet the pilot, he smiled.

"Hey Murd..."

Before Face had a chance to finish that sentence, Murdock grabbed him firmly by his tie and hissed, "Duck, _Duck_!", while jerking the conman headfirst to the ground.  
Face, who was totally taken by surprise, landed on all fours.

"Now _really_ , Murdock! Was that necessary?!" Face complained while sitting on his haunches and fixing his crumpled tie.

"It's real silk, you know, and do you even realize _how_ _hard_ it is to remove grass stains out of a sui..."

"SSSHH!" Murdock shushed him.

Face, suddenly alerted by the seriousness of his friend, closed his mouth and followed Murdock's nervous gaze. While checking the perimeter in silence, he tried to see what Murdock was seeing. But even though he really did his best, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The road was clear and their surroundings were deserted.  
Except for a crossing Jackrabbit, there was simply nothing going on.  
After giving it a few minutes, he finally gave up and decided to break the silence again.

"Okay, Murdock. Enough of this. What's going on?"

"If you figure it out, please lemme know," was the quiet answer.

"What do you mean?" Face said while starting to feel more confused by the minute.

The lanky pilot shrugged and just gazed at the road without answering.

"Murdock, are you seeing things again? Face said.

He was starting to feel impatient. First, his suit got ruined and now this vaguery?

"And have you been taking your meds?" he went on with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Murdock quickly turned his head and stared at his friend with a look that was a mixture of both indignation and hurt.  
A sudden awkward silence fell over the two that made Face shift uncomfortably.  
With a stab of regret, he realized he'd said the wrong thing. Instead of asking for more information first, he'd immediately assumed Murdock was off his meds or just making things up again. He sighed while combing a hand through his hair.

"Look buddy, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Face tried with a softer voice this time.

He carefully rested a hand on Murdock's hunched shoulders who tensed at his touch but then, to Face's relief, relaxed again.  
Murdock closed his eyes briefly as he drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After some hesitation, he finally talked.

"I - I think I'm bein' watched," Murdock muttered while stretching his neck to check the road once more.

"Being watched? By whom?"

"I don't know, man. Every time I look, there is nothing! But they're here. I am sure of it. I can FEEL them watching me."

Murdock paused, then finally sat down on the dry ground while putting the book he'd been holding on the grass. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I just don't know...," He muttered. "Maybe you're right and I'm just getting more bonkers every day,"

Face gave the pilot an examining look. He'd noticed the slightly pale complexion on his friend's face, and the dark rims under his eyes.  
Then his eyes fell on the book, and he picked it up.

"What's this?" Face said with a raised eyebrow as he read the somewhat concerning title.

"Just some light reading," Murdock answered dismissively.

Face chuckled, "You call this _light_?"

He quickly flicked through the pages, occasionally pausing at some eye-catching paragraphs that were decorated with horrifying illustrations of seances, people being buried alive and evil spirits haunting old castles.  
In his mind, the conman was silently putting one and one together.

"Have you been getting any sleep lately?" He finally asked as he put down the book again.

"No, not really but..,"

"Are you reading this at night?"

"Yes, but I don't see..."

"Murdock, No wonder you're having trouble sleeping," Face interrupted him.

"I would feel being watched too if I was reading this as a bed time story," He tapped the book with his fingers with a meaningful look in his eyes.

"No, I don't think you understa.." Murdock protested.

"Now Murdock," Face stopped his friend. "Don't you think that these things are connected?"

As the conman stood up, he dragged Murdock to his feet as well.

"See? There is nobody watching us. I think you should give me that book for now so you can finally get some sleep tonight."

"But..." Murdock tried again.

"No buts." Face said firmly. "You need your rest, and reading about haunting spirits will only trigger your paranoia. You don't want that to return, do you?"

Murdock shook his head in defeat. No, he didn't want his old paranoia to return at all. But he was sure this was something else entirely.  
Though apparently there was no way to convince his best friend who'd clearly made up his mind about the situation already.  
Who could he convince now?  
B.A wasn't going to believe him anyway, so that left Hannibal.  
But Murdock was sure that Face would talk with their commander. And who do you think would be believed first? The clever conman who still had all his wits or the crazy nutjob who hadn't slept properly in days and probably couldn't distinguish reality from a hallucination anyway?

Murdock shrugged.  
If that was going to be his verdict, he'd just had to keep his eyes open himself. With or without the book.  
Murdock swallowed nervously as he involuntarily watched over his shoulder again.  
As expected, there was nothing to see. But why did he keep having that nagging feeling?

As Face confiscated the book, he gently took Murdock's elbow and guided him to the trailer park to meet up with the guys.

"You'll see," He said in a comforting matter.

"With a bit of good night sleep, you'll feel lots better.  
Now let's go back to see the guys. There is a little change of plans regarding our road trip that we need to talk about."

...

* * *

From a distance, a tall, dark-haired man with a small goatee spied through his binoculars at Face and Murdock who had joined the others at Hannibal's trailer.  
The man was wearing army fatigues which made him barely visible from his hiding spot. He smiled to himself. So far, things were going exactly as planned.  
He glanced calmly at his notes and then at his colleague who was just climbing up the hill to join him.

"Got the job done, Lee?", he asked the man who noiseless and skillfully maneuvered his way through the bushes and dry branches.

"Yes, Don," The man answered curtly.  
He too was dressed in fatigues complimented with a dark beanie that covered his balding head.  
He was a short and skinny guy who spoke with a slight lisp. The man put his backpack on the ground and sat down on his haunches next to Don.

"It's all set up." He continued with a quiet voice. "The tracking bug is placed, the car antenna disabled. Our target won't be able to communicate during their trip."

"Good," Don replied with a monotone voice that was lacking any kind of emotion.

Pensively, Lee looked down at the trailer park.

"You reckon he saw us? Target M, I mean..."

Don frowned.

"No...,"

"But he must know," Lee insisted.

"He does..." Don confirmed flatly, "And that's exactly how I want it to be. We just need to mess with his mind a little longer until the next part of the plan will play itself out. We need him to become unhinged... just enough to divert Baracus so he won't know of our presence until it's too late."

Lee merely nodded, already knowing the plan in detail.

"We're just going to fuel his madness a little more," Don added with a cold grimace that didn't reach his eyes.

The balding man took his own binoculars from his backpack and checked on the A-team members who were getting out of the trailer and separating into different groups now. Hannibal and Face strolled toward the set while B.A and Murdock were on their way back to the van.

"Looks like they're about to move," Lee mumbled.

"Exactly like planned..," Don said coldly.

This was their cue. Team Beta was already in place to keep an eye on Target F & H.  
But Don's task was to keep an eye on the guys in the van.

"Hurry up. It's time for action," He snapped while getting up and quickly making his way down the hill.

"Yessir, Lee answered as he swiftly got up from his haunches and followed closely in Don's footsteps.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4- Now you see me Now you don't

Hey everyone.  
Here's a new chapter from me, plus a revised Chapter 3, which I reposted just a minute ago.  
I wrote an additional paragraph that I forgot to add when I uploaded it last week.  
So before you read Chapter 4, I'd encourage you to read that last paragraph of chapter 3 first.  
It might shed some more light on the vague situation the guys find themselves in. They are in trouble for sure.

Thanks again for following this story. Please feel free to tell me what you think. It's always so encouraging.  
I'd really like to read up with some of the A-team stories on this website too. I saw lots of newly added chapters. The only thing I need now is more hours in my day!

Please enjoy my new writings.  
Happy Sunday!  
R.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Now you see me... Now you don't**

Nope...Nuh-uh. There was definitely _nothing_ left of B.A's good mood today, and Murdock knew it.  
The lanky man sat quietly in the passenger's seat while occasionally eyeing the fuming giant next to him with apprehensive eyes.  
The big man seemed to be boiling inside.  
Maybe it had something to do with the change of plans. Or maybe it was simply because of Murdock's mere presence.  
After asking ' _Are we there yet_ ' for six times in a row, he'd received a gold clad fist right under his nose.  
Sure, it had only been a threat without an actual hit, but the message was clear: Don't talk with B.A or you'll be meeting the Grim Reaper sooner than expected.  
Luckily, Billy hadn't started howling an impeding-doom-howl yet, so Murdock assumed his life was still safe...-ish.

The two men had finally hit the road and were on their way to Chicago... _together_.  
That was part of the _'_ Change of plans' Face had been talking about.  
Apparently, Hannibal's stunt-double had an accident while executing one of the more dangerous stunts and had broken both legs.  
Despite the unfortunate faith of the stuntman, the crew was in chaos because they didn't have an immediate replacement for the guy. It was going to result in terrible delays in their filming schedule which they, according to their producer, couldn't afford as they were on a very tight budget.  
So of course, Hannibal, as always on the jazz, saw a chance to volunteer and become his very _own_ stuntman.  
That way the crew could catch up with their filming schedule and reduce the delays to a minimum.  
Face had argued the matter and pleaded for Hannibal to change his mind. But after hearing Hannibal's familiar chuckle, he'd known it was a lost cause. The man clearly wasn't going to budge.

"I always say: You need to live a little on the edge from time to time." was his answer to Face's objections.

"Of course YOU would say that..," was Face's bitter reply. His commander literally lived for danger.

That was also the moment when Hannibal came up with another daring plan.  
In his enthusiasm, he thought it would be a good idea to send B.A and Murdock ahead to Chicago.  
Just the two of them, so Murdock could keep B.A company while he and Face would wrap things up on the set. After that, they would follow the guys in hot pursuit. And just in case, they would stay in contact whenever they had to stop for gas or the night.  
It seemed like a brilliant solution to the problem.  
B.A wouldn't miss any of his precious mom-time, and Face would be riding his beloved Sportscar instead of tagging along in the van.  
A win-win situation for both parties.  
But according to B.A, the win-win solution was non-existent.  
He had to drive about 29 hours with the fool right next to him as his only company. And he already knew that his nerves were going to be tested sooner or later.  
Besides, he really hated to disappoint his momma. She'd expected all four of them to arrive at the same time. He bet she'd made some plans too. But it couldn't be helped.  
So; yes. B.A was still fuming about his current predicament, and Murdock, who was usually never too impressed with B.A's mood swings, was too much on edge to challenge the man like he normally would.

Murdock sighed as he carefully and veeery slowly stretched his long limbs while trying to cause as little disturbance for the big guy as possible.  
They'd been driving for 3 hours straight now, and the atmosphere was still electric.  
With Face confiscating his book, Murdock didn't have anything on hand to distract his galloping mind.  
The radio had been turned off (because he'd kept switching stations), singing was _highly_ discouraged, and fidgeting even more so.  
And although he felt tired enough, there was no way he dared to sleep right now.  
What if he snored too loudly?  
Nope. Better not risk it.  
So instead, Murdock sat in an unusually rigid posture in his seat, trying not to move or even breathe too much. He quietly thought of white paper to make himself invisible but seemed to be out of practice. Plus, he found it remarkably hard to concentrate on white paper while his mind _really_ wanted to check the side mirror to see if they were being followed.  
So far, he'd managed to stop himself from checking, but only because he'd promised Face not to go looking for invisible stalkers anymore...  
And it was hard!  
Face assured him that it would only trigger his paranoia and that it was best to focus on something else instead.

"But," Murdock thought in frustration, " That's easy to say when there's NOTHING ELSE to focus on!"

By now, Murdock was SO extremely bored, it was getting harder and harder to resist. The presumable stalkers were haunting his mind.  
He was pretty certain that his head would explode if he didn't do something about it soon.  
Actually... Come to think of it; wasn't this an excellent reason to check if the stalkers were back?  
Surely, B.A would frown upon exploding heads in his van, right?  
Way too loud and rather messy. Murdock bit on his lip to suppress a mad giggle.

Moving slowly, he shot a careful sideglance at his teammate.  
Noting that B.A was still focusing on the road, he finally let his eyes wander to his side mirror and sneaked a peek.  
His heart leaped as his eyes registered something familiar.  
There it was! That car! Did he imagine it? Was it a delusion or was it really there?  
Forgetting all about sitting still, Murdock bolted upward and rapidly opened the door window. Without hesitation, he threw himself dangerously far over the window sill while leaning his hands on the outside of the van to get a proper view of the traffic behind the driving vehicle. Wind rushed hard through his whispy hair, and he almost lost his baseball cap.  
This time he would be fast enough! This time they wouldn't be able to hide!

"WHATYA DOING, FOOL?!" B.A screamed as he almost lost control over the van.

With shrieking tires and honking cars all around them, he briefly surged over the road which almost caused Murdock to lose balance and tumble out of the window.  
Completely startled by the pilot's unpredictive stunt, B.A reached out, grabbed Murdock by the bottom of his flannel shirt and hauled him back into his seat.

"Get back here, you idiot!" B.A barked angrily as he focused on the road again. "What were you thinkin'!"

Murdock's startled mind was racing to come up with a good excuse. As he rubbed his hurt elbows, he plastered a wild but apologetic grin on his face.

"I -er... I just did what Billy always does," he said quickly.

"Just hanging out of the window like this! Swwee?"

As to make a point, he once more stuck his head out of the window frame while showing his tongue and pretended to pant like a dog.

"Bwilly dwoes twis all the twime,"

"You don't fool me!" B.A snapped while sideglancing his teammate sternly. "What _were_ you doing!?"

Murdock seemed a bit rattled as he sank back in his seat. He closed his mouth and looked at his still fuming teammate.  
Would the big guy really believe him if he told him?  
He was certain that he saw the car! It was the same car he'd seen that morning that was following the van.  
The crazy man frowned pensively at B.A, who, in return, shot him an annoyed but also slightly concerned look.

Murdock puffed his cheeks, then released the air again.

"You probably don't believe me anyway..," He muttered quietly. "Promise me you won't snap, growl or snarl at me?"

As B.A answered with a glare, Murdock promptly added: "We're being followed by a car,"

"What car?" B.A said while checking his mirrors to scan the traffic behind them. They were driving on a long road that led them straight through the Mojave desert. There weren't many places to get off the road, although they'd just passed a junction and an overhead bridge.

"It's a dark-blue car with a broken headlight, " Murdock sighed. I'm pretty sure I've seen it this morning.

"But..." He looked in the side mirror in horror, then jerked his head to look behind him. "It's gone!"

"I don't see nothin'," B.A confirmed. "There are no dark-blue cars behind us."

"But I know I saw it!" Murdock said wide-eyed and turning around in his seat while screening the traffic around them, desperation clearly in his voice.

"I know I did..," he added, suddenly with a little less confidence as he found no sign of the car. Face's words 'paranoia' echoed through his mind.

B.A noticed the captain slumping down in his chair with a tired and confused look on his face. The man restlessly started tapping his foot again.

B.A sighed.  
This was going to be a long looong trip for the both of them. It was a good thing Face had warned him about the crazy man's lack of sleep and his brooding delusions.  
He had to admit that it was a big relief to him that Face had confiscated that darn creepy book of horrors.

"You know what," B.A said, his voice sounded kinder this time. "I'll keep an eye out for that car of yours. You just try and get some sleep or somethin'."

That was as nice as he could get for the crazy man.  
Murdock nodded somberly. He wasn't sure if he was losing his mind, yet he had been so certain about that car...  
How could the car have vanished again? They were in the middle of a desert for crying out loud! And with only one big road ahead!  
But there was no real explanation, other than that he was becoming overly suspicious. And the thought alone gave him the shivers.  
Maybe B.A was right. Maybe some sleep would do him good.  
Murdock folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. He would try. At least he felt safer in the van with the big guy sitting next to him.  
Nothing bad would happen.  
He hoped...

* * *

A dark-blue car with a broken headlight had just taken an exit and halted in the soft shoulder at the side of the road while the black van, their initial object of pursuit, continued its way.  
Don cursed loudly, grabbed the car phone, and angrily dialed a number.  
Lee kept a wary eye on his colleague. The man was known for his nasty temperament and wasn't averse to using violence if he felt like it. He was a man you didn't want to mess with. Once there was this idiot who thought he could make fun out of Don. The latter had simply pulled his knife and the fool now walked around missing an ear.  
Lee shivered slightly.

"Hello? Omega? This is Team Alpha, over!" Don barked into the phone after being connected.

"Target spotted us. Plan B will go into action this very minute. We need you to pick up their trail. They're driving on the 15 and are heading to Las Vegas as we speak. Do you copy?"

A cracking voice sounded over the car speaker. "Understood. We're on our way, over and out!"

Don let out another curse as he put down the receiver.  
He hadn't expected this.  
He knew of Target M's reputation and knew the man could be very unpredictable at times. But he had no idea _how_ unpredictable until he'd witnessed the reckless move of the lanky pilot only a few minutes earlier. Don hadn't anticipated the man to hang out of a moving vehicle on a highway! That was just crazy!  
Unfortunately, Target M had a good view of their car and possibly even saw their faces. Don saw the recognition in the eyes of the man.  
He knew now... There was no messing about. They were no phantoms of his mind. They were real. He only hoped Lee had pulled the car off the road fast enough so target M would linger in uncertainty a little longer.

"Damn!" Don said angrily while cursing Lee's driving skills.

They'd been too close to the van. Too close!  
Sure, they'd also been moving back and forth between other cars too. It wasn't uncommon to see the same cars on a one-way road that carried on for miles and miles.  
But they'd been tailing the van too closely a couple of times. He warned Lee...  
It was only good fortune that they'd been prepared so well. Team Omega would have to take over for now.

But no worries, Don thought while angrily kicking open his door and stepping into the desert sand.  
They would catch up with their target soon enough when they were due for a pit stop.  
Don walked around the car and jerked open the driver's door.

"Out!" he barked at Lee while pulling him up by his collar.

"I'm driving!"

Lee, jumped at his colleagues' sudden actions. With unsteady hands, he fumbled with his seatbelt, stumbled out of the car and hurried to the other side to jump into the passengers' seat. He was only just in time as Don put the car in gear and pulled back into traffic with shrieking tires.

"We'll catch up with them." Lee said carefully, trying to calm his colleague.

"Yes we will," Don said with a menacing smirk on his face.

"Yes we will..."

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5 - Take note!

Hey everyone.  
I have been away for a bit, but hope to continue this story on a more regular base!

Thanks for all the new reviews, follows and words of encouragement. I noticed how they fueled me to continue writing on this one. I hesitated a bit with this chapter because I started publishing this story a tad bit too early. Normally my plot is already done, but this time I left spots open and just started writing without knowing if the pieces of the puzzle would come together.

My way of writing of these stories is usually slightly chaotic, to put it mildly. If you knew how many small notebooks I have scattered over the place, completely filled with random scribbled notes, bits of plot and conversations, you would probably have a laugh. I actually used this personal bit of nuttiness and made it part of my story. It suddenly made sense to do so.  
Read more to understand what I'm babbling about.

* * *

Chapter 5 - Take note!

While on the road again, Don was silently going through his so carefully planned scheme that, quite unfortunately, had settled itself into a slightly different direction than he'd anticipated.  
But he had been plotting it very carefully for his superior, and failure simply wasn't an option.  
Don kept telling himself not to worry, though he thoroughly hated to have to fall back on plan B.  
It meant he had to relinquish control over target M and Baracus to the other unit, which was something he wasn't happy about _at all_.  
He'd liked to keep a tight rein on things.

With one hand on the wheel, and the other arm leaning on the window sill, he bit on the knuckles of his fist.  
It was a habit that meant anger was brewing. Anger that he was currently trying to restrain from getting to a boiling point.  
Losing control over his bad temper was something he really couldn't use right now.  
Lee, who sat in the passenger's seat with a road map on his lap, shifted uncomfortably.  
Don, who'd noticed Lee's nervous side-glances, felt his resentment for his colleague rise. He tried very hard to channel his faulty mood into clear thinking instead.

So... the plan had changed, and he still needed to inform his boss about it.  
But it could wait for now.  
Don already knew that the guy wouldn't tolerate any mistakes made by him or his men.  
Did he need to worry?  
Maybe, maybe not.

Plan B had been a simple backup-plan in case the target would detect their presence earlier than anticipated.  
In that case, the Omega duo, who'd been waiting at another stake-out point that was located halfway their route, would step in to continue the silent pursuit of the van and keep an eye on the target.

They were making sure that Murdock and Baracus kept moving into the right direction.  
After Vegas, the next part of the plan would quickly come into action.  
Don's men would slowly close in and lead them into a funnel trap and capture them as planned.

Don checked his watch. It was almost time to contact the third team, which was currently keeping an eye on Smith and Peck.  
One thing was sure; The A-team had been separated with more ease than expected. Although it had been a bit of a gamble too.  
Team Beta's sabotaging of the equipment of Smith's stunt-double, had been the easiest part. As expected, the accident had delayed the film crew's agenda, which forced Smith and Peck to put off the road trip for at least a day.  
Don had been counting on the team splitting up, knowing that the colonel would want to stay to wrap up the last scenes, and that Baracus wouldn't want to miss any of his precious quality time with his mother. Knowing that Smith wouldn't send his sergeant out on his own, the big man would surely be accompanied by the crazy pilot while Peck stayed with the Colonel to assist him.

At least the first part of the plan had gone well, Don considered.  
Observing the ins and outs of Target M. at the V.A had been quite a fruitful venture so far.  
They'd been surveying the nutjob for a couple of weeks now; tapping his phone calls, placing cameras and deliberately making sure he was picking up some of it (without being overly suspicious) to give the man a feeling of constant apprehension.  
According to Murdock's medical records, he was diagnosed with paranoia, anxiety, delusions and intermittent memory loss.  
Working up the man's paranoia had therefore been part of the plan too, knowing that it would help distract Baracus and weaken both him and Murdock as their target.

Don thoughtfully placed his now raw-knuckled hand back onto the steering wheel.  
Being a fugitive for so long had made the A-team members guarded. Wherever they were, they always kept their wits about them. It wasn't easy to even approach them. It had taken Don weeks of plotting and infiltrating to make his plan work.  
Splitting up the team would make them more vulnerable and easier to capture. And that had been the fundaments of his carefully constructed scheme.  
Don's eyes turned to slits as he silently smiled to himself.

His patience had finally paid off when they conveniently overheard target M's conversation over the phone about the upcoming road trip to Chicago. Don informed his boss, and soon after, several instructions had gone out to his men to capture the A-team.  
Don only hoped that Team Beta, who was keeping an eye on Smith and Peck, would perform their tasks without getting noticed this time.  
Before infiltrating in the film crew, they'd been stationed as orderlies at the V.A to keep an eye on Murdock. But the pilot had spotted them one time too many, so Don decided to replace them with two of his other henchmen.

Don shrugged as he checked the face of his watch. Besides target M, the A-team hadn't had any suspicion so far. In an hour he would contact Team Beta for an update. And after that, he was going to elaborate his plan before informing his boss.  
At least he knew he could count on his men from team Beta. They were both skilled and trained enough to stay hidden and perform their tasks. Besides, Smith and Peck were probably too distracted to notice them anyway.

Or so Don thought...

* * *

 _*SPLASH*_

Bert woke up with a jolt. He squirmed on the ground while spluttering and gasping for air as water dripped into his nose and mouth. He tried to look around but there wasn't enough light to see very far into the room.  
A little bit of daylight peeped through a small window in the corner of the small space. It was just enough to help Bert distinguish some random film props on the shelves, and a pile of stashed away billboards stacked against the walls. It looked like he was in some storage room. But what had happened...?

"Welcome back," a low but chipper voice sounded close by.

Bert blinked as his eyes slowly focused on the smiling white-haired man in front of him.  
However, the smile was, considering the current circumstances, not very encouraging.

John 'Hannibal' Smith sat on his haunches, scrutinizing the bound man in front of him with an expression on his face that lingered somewhere between a smirk and a grin. Despite his polite demeanor, Bert thought his face looked rather shadowy and threatening in the dim light. His white hair and teeth seemed to illuminate and give the man a ghostly appearance.

Shivering slightly, Bert tried surveying the colonel more closely. He immediately noticed that the man wasn't wearing his costume anymore and had changed into his usual outfit again; a shirt, pants and his white jacket. Bert's foggy mind slowly started to get in gear. How long had he been out of cold? The last time he saw Smith, the man had been filming the last scene of the movie, a rather dramatic death scene of the swamp monster.  
Suddenly Bert's eyes widened as he stared into the red glistening eyes of the very same Swamp monster who snarled its big long pointy teeth at him.  
For reasons unknown to Bert, the colonel had placed the big headpiece of his Swamp monster costume on his right knee.  
Smiths' elbow leaned casually on the head while his shadowy eyes lingered on Bert's paling face.  
Somehow, the lack of light in the room made the monster look more alive than Bert liked.  
Shivering slightly, he tried to move his arms, only to find his hands bound behind his back. Looking around, he saw the limp silhouette of his colleague lying both bound and unconscious on the floor next to him. Bert's mouth felt dry as he realized the pickle situation he appeared to be in and swallowed hard.  
This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"What do you want from me," he said hesitantly.

Hannibal's smile widened."I'm _so_ glad you asked." he said, baring his teeth at the man.  
"You're going to spill your gut and tell us exactly why you and your friend here have been surveying us and our dear friend Murdock at the V.A the last couple of weeks."

Close behind Bert, a second voice, calm yet pressing, chimed in.

"Just a kindly reminder before we start... Don't try calling out for help, will ya? It will make matters rather unpleasant and nobody will hear you anyway."

There was an unmistakable hint of sarcasm that made Bert cautiously turn his head and look up at the suave man who stood next to him with an empty rusty bucket in his hands. With drops of water still dripping from the tip of his nose, Bert had no doubts that its contents had just been emptied above his head by the man called Templeton Peck.  
Looking up at the man's shadowy face, he tried to make up his expression but it was too hard to tell.

"How... How did you know...?" Bert asked while dubiously staring from Face to Hannibal. Cold sweat was starting to form on his forehead.

"A little bird told us," Hannibal said firmly, all politeness gone from his voice now.

"Now listen up. We don't have much time!" He added while reaching out, grabbing the man by his collar and lifting him a few inches from the ground.

"Tell us what you're up to, and what it has to do with Murdock and B.A and we might be willing to let you out of here _alive_!"

Bert's body tensed and he pressed his lips firmly together - a gesture that made Peck shake his head and mutter, "Oh boy..." under his breath.

"I'll ask again... _pal_ ," Hannibal said calmly, his eyes piercing the bound man in front of him.

"Tell us what you guys are up to now and nobody gets hurt. What were you doing with the Corvette? Who's behind this? Who's your boss!?"

"You better start singing, Bert," Peck said in an amused voice.

Bert's eyes feverishly searched the room. He desperately tried to find something that might aid him in an escape. But it was useless. His hands were bound and the lack of light made it impossible to find anything of use. Holding his breath, he looked at the frowning face of the older man but stayed silent.

Hannibal sighed.

"Very well," he said calmly while stroking his fingers over the big snarling monsterhead on his knee. "I don't seem to have a choice...It's actually kinda fun. Call me crazy, but I've always wanted to try this..."

Bert's eyes widened as he followed Smith's moves apprehensively and observed the monsterhead again. Its fangs glistened threateningly in the dim light.

"Call it a little experiment," Hannibal grinned as he held up his gloved hand. "Face?"

Knowing exactly what his commander needed, the conman smoothly reached for his jacket pocket and produced a fresh Cuban cigar.

"You're sure about this, Hannibal?" he said while handing the cigar to his commander. "I mean..Isn't this a bit, er... rash?"

"He'll live" Hannibal shrugged. "Besides, what would be the fun of a good old interrogation without some serious blood spilling?"

Hannibal chuckled as he placed the monster head on the floor in front of Bert's face and placed the tip of his cigar firmly between the monsters' gruesome teeth.

Bert, who'd followed Hannibal's actions, nervously stared at the older man in a state of confusion.  
Was the man trying to scare him, or did he want him to die from laughter? The cigar between the monster's teeth looked rather comical.  
But Bert quickly changed his mind regarding the comical part of the scene as he watched Hannibal hit the monster hard on the head with his fist.

*SNAP*

The razor-sharp teeth locked together and chopped off the butt of the cigar that landed on the floor with a dull thud.

"Cool," Hannibal grinned as he picked up the cigar and held it in front of Bert's nose.

"As you can see, Swampie here has a nice set of fangs. I just gave you a little demonstration to show you what he can do with your fingers if you don't tell me what you guys are up to."

Bert looked at Hannibal with horror in his eyes. Sweat dripped from his forehead. There was no way out! He couldn't escape.

"Face, hold him for me," Hannibal said calmly while clenching the cigar between his teeth and picking up the head.

Face crouched down and placed a knee on the man's back while holding up one of the bound hands and prying the fingers apart.  
Bert struggled and tried to ball his hands into fists again, but Peck cleverly put pressure with his other knee on Bert's elbow, and after a gasp of pain, he finally gave in.

"Trust me, this won't take long," Hannibal said as he placed one of Bert's fingers between the teeth of the head. "On the count of three."

Bert could feel the pointy fangs scraping the skin of his hand.

"One..." Hannibal counted.

Bert squinted his eyes and started wiggling again, but Face had a firm grip on him and all his efforts were to no avail.

"TWO," Hannibal said warningly.

There was no way out!

"THR..."

Bert's eyes sprang open.

"No no no NOOOO!" was all he could scream. "I'll tell you anything, ANYTHING!"

* * *

About half an hour later, Hannibal and Face were on the road, hurriedly entering the interstate and racing after B.A and Murdock in the hopes of catching up with them before they were walking into a deadly trap.

"That went easier than I thought, Hannibal," Face said, looking around at the two unconscious men on the backseat of their confiscated car.

Their heads lolled dully on their shoulders as they leaned heavily onto each other. For passers by it looked like they were sound asleep. Face had put a blanket over their legs and tugged them in for good measure. He was great at keeping up appearances.

"But why the hassle with the monster head?" Face added doubtfully.

"I had to specially prepare the cigar to make it look like you could cut it easily with those fake fangs. Why all that spectacle? We could've simply put our gun to the guy's head instead..."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Hannibal chuckled while changing lanes to follow the Five and heading for Texas. His face changed into a grim and determined expression again.

"You think it was wise to drug them with B.A's sleeping potion?" Face asked, turning back into his seat. "They will be out for hours with the dosage we used. What if we need more information from them?"

"We don't," Hannibal said firmly. "We can't risk them to cause hammock while we're driving and try to save our friends. Besides, that bushy browed guy...Bert, was it? Squealed like a pig. He would've given up his own mother if we asked for it."

"The guy sure was talkative," Face snorted with a sound of loathing in his voice.

"He shouldn't complain," Hannibal added dryly. "Afterall, he still has all ten of his digits intact,"

Face nodded absentmindedly and quietly picked up the book he'd confiscated from his team mate that morning. He opened it at the page where Murdock had left a handwritten note that he'd used as a bookmark. Apparently, he was halfway reading a chapter called _'Houdini and the Supernatural'_.  
Picking up the piece of paper, the conman's eyes scanned the Pilot's scrawly, somewhat childish, handwriting for the second time that day. The small scribbles were divided into tables and were illustrated with miniature icon-like doodles and codes.

Finding the note in the book earlier had set off all alarm bells with the conman.  
Most of all because it had been a while since he'd last seen one of them.  
He knew that Murdock usually wrote this kind of notes when he was having small episodes of memory loss or delusions and needed a way to ground himself back into reality, especially when on a mission.  
But during the years, they'd started to become a rare occurrence for the pilot. Only on few occasions, he would start writing them again.

One of those times was when they'd saved the life of Lin Duk Coo, the Viet Cong prison camp cook who they'd discovered working in a restaurant in L.A.  
The adventure had rattled everyone on the team, bringing back all sorts of memories from their time as a POW. But it had hit Murdock most of all, as he started babbling about the Golfball Liberation Front and making all kinds of referrals to the ordeals they had to endure. He'd experienced a bit of a setback after that adventure, and it took him a full week to recuperate from that. Face, who'd made sure the pilot stayed with the team for another week before bringing him back to the V.A, had started finding similar notes again.

Of course, all A-team members knew about the notes, and they also knew that the pilot was rather self-conscious and uneasy about them. There was an understanding and a sort of unspoken gentlemen's agreement amongst the men to never mention them in the group. They knew that they could always count on the pilot, even in the direst of situations.  
As long as he could use his 'crib sheets', it would be fine.

Face screened Murdock's writings for the third time now. Maybe there was something, a clue maybe? that he'd missed.  
Murdock's notes were short and filled with abbreviations. Parts of them were written in a code that probably only made sense to the lanky pilot. But Face understood enough of it to know what they meant.

* * *

 ** _Week 1 - 164808 NI_**

 _ **Monday:**  
_ _Last week: 2x new OL (orderly)_ _. at_ ward _. S  
_ _Naming them Bert & Ernie. (*drawn smiley face + little awkward drawing of Bert & Ernie*)_

 _ **B:**  
_ _specs: Heavy brows! (*drawn bushy eyebrows*)  
_ _Trust: no  
_ _Nice: don't know  
_ _Susp: Keep distance. Don't talk. Eyes follow!_

 ** _E:  
_** _specs: tattoo wrist: Mary + heart + black curlies. (*scribbly drawing of tattoo*)  
_ _Trust: no  
_ _Nice: nope! (*angry face*)  
_ _Susp: Wrong medication. Warning! Don't take new purple pills! (*small drawing of shape of the pills with lots of arrows*)_

B&E keeping an eye on 214.

OASN: Billy doesn't like them. Considers biting them in the shins.

* * *

Face frowned again. Murdock mentioning Billy often meant something was going on. His trusty imaginary dog mostly appeared when Murdock was feeling stressful or nervous. Face's eyes scrolled through Murdock's handwriting and flipped the piece of paper to continue reading on the backside. Skipping a week of records while doing so, he'd noticed that the cheerful doodles started to disappear as the notes became more cryptic and graver with the day.

* * *

 ** _Week 3 - 164810 SS_**

 ** _Monday:_**

 _B &E follow me around._

 _Meeting Dr. R:  
_ _\- tension.  
_ _\- bad sleeping.  
\- nightmares.  
_ _\- paranoia (R = wrong!)_

 _.-. . .- .-.._

 _RMR: YOU'RE NOT MAKING IT UP!_

 _OASN: Billy peed under R's desk. Serves him right._

 _Busted B installing_ cam _. Aimed at 214!_

 _Asked: No_ expl _. Smashed cam._

 _Result: straightjacket 2 hrs + tranq. pills. (*drawing little angry face*)_

 _Remember this!  
_  
 _OASN: Found out_ name _of Bert really IS Bert! (Great guesswork, muchacho!)_

 _Now wondering about real name other OL. (Wild guess:_ _Ernest)_

 _-.- - ..- .-. .-. . / -. - - / -.-. .-. .- -.. -.-_

 ** _Tuesday:_**

 _state: B &E AWOL_

 _Arr. 2 x new OL Haven't named them yet._

 _Warning: Keep eye on them! Don't feel safe._

 _Not sure where B &E went?  
_ _Searched ward. Nothing found  
_ _Searched 214. Nothing found  
_ _Searched game.r. Nothing found_

New OL. linger! Keep eye open.  
Don't sleep!

 _-.. - -. .-. - / - .-. ..- ... -_

* * *

Face sighed as he placed the paper back into the book before putting it aside.

They had been lucky.  
If he hadn't opened the book out of curiosity while Hannibal was shooting the last scene of the day, he'd never found Murdocks note. And they wouldn't have realized that the two new crew members that had only arrived at the set a few days earlier were, in fact, the same guys that had been posing as orderlies at Murdock's ward. It was Murdock's description of the two that gave them away! It couldn't be coincidence.

Face informed Hannibal as soon as he could, and shortly after they actually caught the goons in the act while they were busy sabotaging Face's car phone.  
The defect phone was also the reason why they weren't driving the Vette right now.  
Overpowering the two henchmen wasn't easy. The men were skilled and clearly had gone through some combat training. But so had Hannibal and Face, plus they had the element of surprise with them. After some well-aimed punches, they'd overpowered the men and dragged them unseen into a nearby storage room.  
According to Hannibal, interrogating one of the goons would be _a piece of cake_.  
Even though Hannibal proved to be right, the conman secretly wished that his commander hadn't used those exact words though. He still wasn't sure whether they were cursed or not.  
Face shivered involuntarily.

Hannibal looked sideways at the silent man in the passenger's seat. Face was now staring pensively out of the window, his fingers softly rapping on the window sill. The lieutenants' usually smooth exterior was showing signs of worry and frustration.

"You okay, Face?" Hannibal asked while concentrating on the road again. He was speeding up as he switched lanes to pass a series of trucks.

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm fine," Face said, looking up slightly startled as if he just emerged from a deep well of thoughts.

The conman nervously combed a hand through his hair while dark feelings of guilt were emerging from the pits of his stomach.  
Hannibal shot him another sideway glance but said nothing for a while.

"I was just thinking...," Face said, finally breaking the silence and sounding agitated.

"I should've listened to Murdock. He tried to tell me, and I just waved his worries away as a sign of paranoia like it was nothing. I should've known better. I - I failed him, Hannibal."

"We ALL failed him, kid..." Hannibal replied grimly. "We were all too busy with our own stuff to pay him any attention."

Face didn't answer.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Hannibal said with a commanding tone. "Right now we need to keep our heads cool and focus on our mission; Which means we need to find the guys!"

Swiftly checking his watch, he added. "Prepare for the call, Face. According to our Sleeping Monobrow Beauty Bert here, we will be contacted for an update by a guy named Don in a couple of minutes. Start thinking and practice your voice acting skills."

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6 - Hit or Miss

Hello again.  
Thankie, thankie for reading my story, leaving me comments and chatting with me in general. I love this community. And hurray, I found time for another chapter.

* * *

Chapter 6- Hit or Miss

B.A and Murdock were still on route and B.A was quietly savoring the peaceful silence that had taken over the van. His bad mood had slowly faded, and although he still experienced some annoyance about their current situation, he felt a lot calmer now.

Next to him, on the passenger's seat, Murdock had finally fallen asleep. He'd wrapped his arms protectively around his chest. His wispy hair stuck out in all directions from under his blue cap which he'd pulled low over his head to cover his dark-rimmed eyes. He wasn't wearing his jacket for a change, and B.A noticed how thin his arms looked from under the rolled up sleeves of his black and red checkered flannel shirt. The man had clearly lost some weight since the last time he'd seen him.  
Murdock's head rested sideways on the car window and bobbed softly with the rhythm of the van. Other than an occasional twitch, snore or muffled sound, B.A was relieved to note that his dreams seemed to be nightmare-free at the moment.  
Not that the mechanic would ever care to admit it, he felt slightly worried about the fool and wondered when his crazy friend last caught himself some decent shuteye.  
According to Face, who'd taken him aside before they started their road trip, it had been a while. And they both knew that lack of sleep often intensified Murdock's common but usually unharmful hallucinations.  
But today, the pilot's behavior had been different; agitated even, although he'd tried to hide it behind his usual jibber jabber.  
It could be paranoia like the Faceman had suggested, but what if the crazy man had really picked up on something?  
What if his delusions were real for a change?

B.A glared sharply at the traffic around them, something he'd started doing after Murdocks' crazy leap out of the window.  
It wasn't _that_ unusual, B.A thought grimly.  
Afterall; stranger things had happened with all of them before.  
Something in his gut told him this wasn't just one of the pilot's usual antics.

B.A glanced in his side mirrors again. He kept an eye on the road, checking for cars that were staying close to the van. But it was a busy road, and cars kept changing lanes. There were a couple of them that seemed to stick around, but considering that they were all driving on a desert road while heading into the same direction, it wasn't strange when you kept seeing the same cars popping up every now and then.  
Suddenly Murdock gave a small snort and started stirring.

"No, gramma. I didn't hide Betsie under ma bed," Murdock drawled in his sleep. "She did it herself. Really!"

Despite himself, B.A shot the sleeping man an amused look.  
Was the fool dreaming about a girl? Maybe an old flame? The pilot never talked much about his youth.

Suddenly a nearby car honked at another driver, and Murdock jolted awake at the sound.  
Looking around with groggy eyes, he seemed to have trouble taking in his surroundings for a moment.  
B.A couldn't help himself.

"Who's Betsie?" he asked gruffly but with a small twinkle in his eye.

Murdock started at the sound of the deep voice and gazed at the big guy with obvious confusion on his face.

"Betsie?" Murdock mumbled, feeling slightly bewildered.  
Did he talk in his sleep again?

"Er...,"  
Murdock hesitated for a second before answering.

"We used to have a cow named Betsie at the farm when I was a kid..." Murdock lifted the rim of his cap while looking at B.A questioningly.  
"She was brown and had very long eyelashes, but that's the only Betsie I know... Why'd you ask?"

"Never mind..," B.A replied briskly while rolling his eyes.

He could've known he would get an answer like that... Who else would dream about hiding a cow under his bed...

Not understanding B.A's sudden curiosity, Murdock shrugged and yawned behind his hand. He didn't remember his dream but felt a little better after his short nap.  
And he was happy to see that the big guy was talking to him again. It surely lifted his spirits.  
A happy smile spread across his face.  
Murdock immediately took the positive change of mood as an invitation to start another _entertaining_ conversation with the gold clad man.

"Hey B.A, Did you know...," he started.

But B.A wouldn't find out what Murdock was about to say, as the lanky man got interrupted by a loudly protesting growl from his very own stomach.

"Shhh!" Murdock hushed it sternly. "Grown-ups are talkin',"

B.A grunted and looked at his skinny friend.

"When did you last eat?"

"Er...," Murdock said, taken aback by the question."This morning?"

He hadn't paid much attention because he'd been too busy getting out of the place.  
Then he realized that he escaped from the V.A _before_ breakfast had been served and another growl erupted from his insides.

"My stomach just told me it was yesterday evening..." He corrected himself while realizing how hungry he felt.

"Ya gotta eat, fool!" B.A said, sounding annoyed. "Check the dash. There might be a candybar. We'll have to stop for food soon anyway."

Murdock did as told and eagerly opened the glove department of the dashboard in front of him in search for some yummies.  
But instead of finding a candybar, he produced a remote control.  
Even though it was kinda heavy, it immediately reminded him of the joystick of his own Atari. It was a medium-sized black box with a stick and a big red shiny button that said _record_.  
Murdock swallowed.  
If there was something Murdock had trouble with NOT doing, it was pushing a big shiny red button that said _record_. But he resisted the urge... for the moment at least...  
Hunger forgotten, he examined the device more closely. Murdock could see that B.A had been tinkering with the joystick. It had a small display that looked as if it was taken off a camcorder. There were even some extra buttons labeled 'play, stop, rewind and pause'.

"Heyyyy! Looky looky what I got here!" Murdock said with boyish curiosity while exploring the device.

"Put that back!" B.A barked while trying to grab the thing out of Murdock's hands and almost making the van wobble off the road again.

"Finders keepers!", Murdock grinned while playfully holding the black box in the air and thoroughly out of reach from the grasping hands of the big guy.

"What does it do?" Murdock said, moving himself a bit closer to the passenger's door and further away from the grumpy sergeant while holding the remote control upside down. It was attached to a couple of colored wires coming from inside the dash.

"Careful with that!" B.A bellowed while eyeing the now strained wires.

Murdock immediately lowered the remote again.

"It's connected to a camera that I installed under the front bumper mount of the van," B.A answered gruffly while concentrating on the road again and feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Made it at Hannibal's request. Remember you installed that cam when we were rolling up that illegal booze business? Well, I made a better cam. Might come in handy again."

"That's brilliant!" Murdock exclaimed. "My, oh my! Those whirlin' gears under that Mohawk of yours never cease to amaze me."

Murdock chuckled while gazing at the mechanic with big eyes and clear awe in his voice.

"Does it work?"

"I'm still testin' it," B.A replied with a slight flush on his dark cheeks. "But yeah... it works,"

He was always feeling a bit awkward when the crazy man gave him compliments like that.

"Wow!" Murdock sighed while eyeing the red record button again.

"Can I play with it?"

"No!" B.A said firmly, finally seeing a chance to grab the remote from Murdock's hands and placing it back into the glove department.

Murdock pouted but B.A simply ignored it.

"No candybars?" he asked while quickly changing the subject.

"No candybars...," Murdock confirmed with another rumble from his stomach.

"Okay, We'll stop for gas and some food and water," B.A answered, spotting a sign post announcing a gas station and convenience store in a few miles.

"Gonna get me some chow, big guy?" Murdock grinned at his friend again. "Gonna get me some real solid chompin' goodness? Aw I knew it! You DO care about me, you big Momma Baracus you!"

"Don't push it!" B.A growled dangerously, already getting _very_ tired of the talking.

Murdock just smiled and stretched his arms and legs gingerly.  
He'd noticed how untroubled he'd felt after waking up. It was as if his previous suspicions of constantly being watched had happened ages ago.  
The pilot felt safe with the grumpy driver. But unfortunately, the feelings didn't last long.  
As silence fell over the van again, dark and eerie thoughts of unease stirred his mind.  
Murdocks' smile faded slowly.  
The sudden prospect of getting out of the van and into the open made a shadow of his anxiety return. Without realizing it, Murdock was checking his side mirror again.  
What had he missed during his nap? There were a few cars he thought he'd recognize from earlier and his stomach knotted.  
A dark shadow fell over his face and a random thought occurred to him. He had been reading about this in his book. Billy whined softly at his feet.

"You know, B.A" Murdock said slowly, while watching the traffic behind them apprehensively.

"What...!?"

"Did you know that Harry Houdini and his wife didn't believe in spirits and ghosts?"

B.A shifted in his seat while staring hard at the road in front of him. He wasn't looking forward to more horror stories and had the feeling he was in for another treat.

"Houdini tried to debunk psychics and mediums and expose them as frauds. They called him a ghostbuster... and...Oh by the way, did you see that movie? Awesome how that slime monster d..."

B.A shot his teammate a warning glare. What was he on about?

"Anyway," Murdock quickly continued, realizing he got sidetracked while he was trying to make a point.

"...Before he died, Houdini and his wife formed a secret code. If Houdini would die ahead of his wife, he would try and find a way to contact her and drop her the message 'Rosabelle believe'."  
Murdock paused a second before continuing.  
"So Houdini, indeed, died in 1926, and his wife held seances every year on Halloween to give him an opportunity to contact her. And at some point in 1929, she claimed that Houdini had contacted her through a spiritualist medium called Arthur Ford. Houdini had brought her the secret message, and..."  
Murdock frowned for a second, then added:  
"Oh hang on. I forgot. Later she said that the incident had been faked. So I guess Houdini didn't contact her in the end..."

B.A sighed. Murdock's brain was always so chaotic and full of random information. Where the heck was this story leading to?

"But that's not my point, big guy!" Murdock continued grimly while keeping his eye on a small pickup truck with faded lettering that kept lingering a few cars behind them in traffic.

"I think we should create a code too. You know..., just in case something happens to us?"

"Nothin' will happen, fool!"

"'Rosabelle' was a song that Houdini and his wife liked." Murdock continued while stubbornly ignoring the big guy.

"Maybe our code should be 'You are my sunshine'. That's a song we like, right?" Murdock suddenly turned and gave the big guy a faint grin.

"It's a song the Colonel likes! And now quit your jibba jabba! You make no sense!"

"But B.A, what if something happens and I can't contact you after death and can't haunt you to tell you I'm fine?!" Murdock insisted.

"Shut up fool! There will be no haunting. You're not gonna die!" B.A barked, feeling quite angry now. 'What was' this nonsense?

Uncharacteristically, Murdock stayed silent.

B.A finally spotted the approaching gas station with convenient store and took the exit.  
A few cars followed. So did the pick-up.  
As B.A parked the van, he turned to Murdock.

"I'm gonna get some gas. You go inside and get us some food and water. We're having a long journey ahead. And I don't want no more talk about ghosts and spirits! Got that?" He barked.

"You got it," Murdock said with a sullen voice while grabbing his jacket from the backseat and stepping out of the van. For a second he looked around guardedly before putting on the jacket, straightening his cap and crossing the parking space with his hands stuck deep into his pockets.  
B.A sighed as his eyes followed the lanky pilot into the store. This was really putting a strain on his nerves.  
Convinced that his friend had indeed entered the shop, he stepped out of the van and walked toward the fuel pump to pick up the gas nozzle and fill up the tank.  
He waved away a rather eager uniformed attendant who dared to approach him for assistance with a distinctive growl.  
The attendant's polite smile faltered as he quickly turned on his heels to aid another car owner.  
As the pump started whirring, B.A glanced after a pick-up truck that had passed the gas station in a hurry and drove to the parking lot behind the convenient store and out of sight.  
B.A frowned. He'd noticed the car on the road a couple of times, but apparently, it didn't need gas.  
Then his eyes registered the phone booth. Oh right! He had to contact Hannibal and Face and give them an update.  
The pick-up completely forgotten, B.A hurried into the van after filling up the tank and paying for the gas. As he drove the van to a remote parking spot that was hiding the vehicle slightly from view, he picked up the phone and dialed Face's number of the Vette.  
It was a long shot, but there was a small chance that the Colonel and the Lieutenant were within range. That way he would be able to call them privately.  
However, B.A soon discovered there was no way of contacting anything at all because the phone was dead. B.A tried again but to no avail. There was no signal whatsoever.

Stepping out, the mechanic checked the antenna and immediately saw the problem. Only a remnant of the device was visible on the van's roof. It looked like it had been partly snapped off. Someone clearly had been tampering with it. And there was no way to repair it.  
B.A looked around, thinking hard.  
This must've happened earlier, before leaving the Studios maybe. He locked the van and hurried to the telephone booth next to the entrance of the convenience store to try and call the Vette from there. There was that uneasy feeling again that there must be some truth in Murdock's ramblings about being hunted.  
Dialing the number once more, an operator informed him that the number was out of service.  
B.A grunted a quick 'thanks' and hung up.  
Something was very wrong.  
He had to get Murdock. They had to leave asap! He suddenly had a funny feeling about that pick-up truck too.  
Hurrying out of the phone booth he raced towards the convenience store to find his friend.  
He didn't notice the movement behind the back of the van...

* * *

A little earlier:

"Hurry up! He already went inside," Jack snapped at his partner while pulling the car to an abrupt stop and only _just_ out of view of the black van and its muscular driver.

Hunter, a young thin, dodgy looking man with a ponytail of long dark hair, pulled his hat lower over his eyes while half-hiding his metal blowgun (a narrow, tube-shaped weapon) under his jacket. He jumped out of the pick-up truck while checking for the darts in his pockets.  
The man quickly found his way into the store, looking for one of the targets they'd been following. He had orders to take one of them down.

"Take them one at a time", were his instructions.

He would start with the weakest of the two.

While entering the store, he was pleased to see it wasn't very busy.  
It was a shabby looking place. Pallets filled with products stood at random places, waiting to be put on the shelves. There were a few people lingering around the one-armed bandits in a corner, surrounded by flashy lights and tinkling noises. They were exclaiming sounds of annoyance or cheer while being totally absorbed with their game.  
A young man just ordered a hot dog and a soda from the counter.

"Perfect," Hunter thought while locating target M who was making his way around the aisles with an already half-filled shopping basket.

The lanky pilot was rapidly grabbing products from their shelves with a fresh sandwich clenched between his teeth.  
Hunter followed him quietly to the back of the store. The man blessed his luck as his target passed a stand of magazines and suddenly stopped in track.  
Murdock looked around warily while taking another bite off his sandwich before checking out the comics that were displayed on the rack.

The moment the pilot had looked around, Hunter quickly kneeled down behind a huge stack of discounted soda drinks that were placed on a pallet. Cleverly making use of his hiding spot, Hunter quietly took his tube-shaped blowgun from under his coat and loaded it with one of the darts from his pocket.  
The darts were spiked with a sedative. It wouldn't knock a man out of cold immediately, but it would instantly make him unfocused and easy to handle.  
Hunter had instructions to sedate his target before dragging him out of the store and carrying him off into the pick-up truck.  
If necessary, Jack would distract Baracus. But Jack would have his own job to do anyway.  
Hunter just had to move quickly. If this wasn't going to work, there was a backup plan ready to go in action.

Breathing calmly, Hunter aimed the weapon smoothly between the bottles at his target while silently congratulating himself for finding such a perfect spot to shoot his victim.  
This was gonna be _a piece of cake._

Hunter inhaled deeply, expanded hiss lungs and blew.

*TACK!*

Hunter blinked sluggishly as he registered what had just happened.

The moment he'd fired the dart, Target M had bent down to scoop up a comic from the bottom shelf.  
Incidentally, the crazy man hadn't even noticed the dart zooming by.  
It had only missed him by inches. The dart had landed right inside a pile of plastic water bottles that was situated right behind him. The plastic bottle, with the dart still quivering slightly, slowly started to leak its contents over the floor.

Murdock, however, didn't notice.  
He silently browsed the comic book while sitting on his haunches and hungrily taking another bite of his sandwich.  
Hunter felt harassed. He was a good shot and hardly ever missed his mark. This was just a pinch of bad luck. No worries.  
Rapidly, in order not to waste any more time, he hustled a second dart from his pocket, secretly thankful for bringing extras.  
Quick as he could, Hunter re-loaded the dart gun and placed it between the bottles again, aimed once more and...  
Murdock got back to his feet with the comic in his hands.

*TACK*

Another dart hit the pile of water bottles! Hunter bit his lip in pure frustration.  
The moment the dart took flight, Murdock had accidentally dropped the comic and bent forward to pick it up from the floor. The dart aimlessly zoomed right over his head, causing a small draft of air that, this time, didn't go unnoticed by the pilot.  
Murdock looked up in alert and took the sandwich from his mouth. What was that? And what was that sound?

"Hello?" he said hesitantly while checking the aisle for other people.

Hunter cursed under his breath while furiously searching his pocket for his third and last dart. Almost feverishly, he re-loaded the blowgun in the hopes his target would stay at the magazine display long enough for him to get a hit. There was no room for mistakes anymore. His target had been alerted.  
To his relief, Hunter saw the lanky man turning his back on him to give the leaking water bottles behind him a closer inspection. The growling tiger on the pilot's flying jacket snarled at the henchman as if it was challenging him to try it again.  
This was his last and only chance!

Murdock was slowly approaching the stack of water bottles. They were still half wrapped in plastic and piled up on a pallet together.  
With a mixture of shock and bewilderment on his face, Murdock registered the two thin and pointy darts sticking out of one of the six-packs.  
While taking another step forward, he wondered what the heck was going on. Was someone shooting at h...?  
Before he could finish that thought, he tripped over his loose shoe lace and stumbled forward.

*TACK!*

Another dart zoomed right passed Murdock. It ricocheted over the floor this time and slid right under the wooden pallets and out of view.  
Another miss! Damn that unpredictable guy! Couldn't he just stand still for ONE second?  
Hunter cursed again, but this time it was audible. Shit!  
Murdock, who'd managed to prevent himself from hitting the floor, turned on the spot while looking around wildly.

"Who's there?" he demanded while quickly moving toward the sound of the voice with his shopping basket still in his hands.

But Hunter had been quick and smooth as a snake. He'd already slithered his way to the back-end of the aisle and out of sight.  
As Murdock ran forward (trying hard not to stand on his shoe laces again), Hunter silently slipped to the back of the same aisle, reached the stack of water bottles and quickly removed the darts right from behind Murdock's back. Then, as Murdock dashed into another aisle, Hunter found the emergency exit door in the back of the store and left unnoticed. He cursed himself for not being able to complete his task.  
After the ruckus Murdock had made, there was no way he could try again without going unnoticed. Besides, he didn't even have enough darts.  
Don wouldn't be happy with him at all.

* * *

Murdock cautiously moved around the stack of soda bottles but found no-one. His mind started racing as he hurriedly walked through the aisles in search of... he wasn't sure what exactly. The only thing he knew for sure was the fact that he'd just been attacked.

At that very same moment, B.A entered the store.

"B.A!" Murdock cried with relief in his voice and running up at the big guy.

"What's up?" B.A asked in alarm, seeing the fear in the pilot's face.

"They're shooting at me!" Murdock said while grabbing B.A's arm and dragging the mechanic head over heels (and under loud protest) to the back of the store to show him the leaking bottles. People were starting to turn their head at the two men.

"There were darts in these and..." Murdock suddenly stopped talking while anxiously searching the pile of bottles.

There were no darts to be found. The small pool of water and the remains of his unfinished sandwich, which he'd, unfortunately, dropped on the floor, were the only proof that something had happened.

"They were _really_ here! I swear!" Murdock said with a voice that rose an octave out of frustration.

He turned to B.A with exasperation in his eyes. But there was also doubt.  
Doubt that he was really losing his mind...  
The water was there. But what if it had just been a random leaking bottle. Was his mind just making this up?  
Usually, Murdock kinda knew when things were hallucinations or not, even though he liked to pretend that all of it was real just because he could. But this was no joking matter.

"I don't see no darts!" B.A said uncomfortably while looking over his shoulder and noticing that people were starting to stare at them.

He wanted to believe the pilot and still had to fill him in about the broken car phone, but there were too many faces upon them right now. They needed to leave. He would explain it all later.

"Hurry up! We're leavin'!" he growled while seizing the basket from the pilot's hands and turning on his heels.

Murdock wanted to follow him but stumbled.

"And I told you to tie your shoe lace!" B.A barked while walking to the cashier to pay for the groceries.

"I did!" Murdock protested.

The lanky pilot sent an anxious glance at the staring people. He wondered if the shooter was amongst them.  
IF there had been a shooter at all...

Then he quickly bent down to tie the obstinate shoe lace while muttered something that sounded like 'stubborn little bugger' under his breath. He didn't realize that the shoe lace in question had possibly just saved his life.

* * *

As Murdock and B.A entered the van and continued their journey again, Murdock dug up a pencil and a small pocket-sized notebook from his jacket pocket. He drew away from B.A, trying to hide his actions with his back to the driver, and started scribbling notes and reminders... just in case.  
He didn't trust his mind at the moment. Not at all...

B.A gave the pilot a sideway glance and sighed. The man was writing things down again. That wasn't a good sign. But he wouldn't mention it, knowing how uncomfortable the topic was for the pilot.

Checking his Rearview mirror, he kept an eye on the traffic behind them. In the distance, he noticed the same pick-up truck leaving the parking space and following them at a distance.

B.A exhaled slowly before letting Murdock know about the phone and the fact that they couldn't reach Hannibal and Face.  
He hoped Murdock would take it well.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7 - connected

* * * NOTE * * *  
Yippie, another chapter! As always, **thanks!** for all the feedback and kind words regarding my previous chapter.  
Finally! Chapter 7 ends where the first chapter took off.  
So _after_ this chapter, I will finally continue from where I left off with the first chapter. Am I still making sense? I'm starting to confuse myself a bit.  
Ahhh whatever.  
Have fun reading!  
(Ps sorry for some typos and grammar mistakes. I noticed that some parts of sentences were missing too. That sometimes happens when I work in my document. But I think I've fixed them now)

* * *

Chapter 7 - Connected

It was getting later in the afternoon, and the van with B.A and Murdock was still heading East.  
It had been quiet in the van for a while, except maybe for the soft tapping sound of Murdock's nervous foot which was, fortunately for B.A, partly muted by the noise of the engine.  
The bulky mechanic peered at the dark clouds forming in the distance. It looked like a thunderstorm was coming in, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of foreboding descending on him. He frowned and side-glanced at the pilot who sat hunched in his seat while staring into his side mirror again.

Murdock, who'd been very agitated after the event in the convenience store, seemed to have calmed down a little. The bulky mechanic had told him that he believed him, even though neither of them had been able to spot any attackers. Nevertheless, there had been a visible look of relief in the captain's eyes, and the moment they'd stepped into the van and entered the highway, some of his chipper mood had returned. It seemed to the sergeant that Murdock felt a lot safer _in_ the van than outside.  
But these last three-quarters of an hour the lanky man had not been able to let his gaze linger from the traffic behind them.  
It was very clear now that the pick-up was trailing them ever since their last pit stop. Their plan was to try and shake off their pursuer the moment they were nearing a town big enough to hide in. The only problem was that neither of them was very familiar with the area which made getting rid of the pick-up a bit of a challenge.  
Las Vegas already lay far behind them, which was a bit unfortunate since B.A actually knew his way around there.  
They'd discussed their current predicament, and B.A had told his teammate about the sabotaged antenna and the fact that they were completely cut off from Face and Hannibal. Knowing that their friends were possibly heading for Chicago by now, and with no means to warn them, there was no way to find out about their current whereabouts. Both B.A and Murdock felt very uneasy about it.

"Maybe they're already heading our way," Murdock suggested hopefully.

B.A merely grunted in response, clearly deeply buried in his own thoughts while keeping an eye on traffic.

He _hated_ not knowing, and a suspicion was rising in the back of his mind.  
Maybe Murdock's attacker wasn't just after Murdock.  
The fact that the antenna had been sabotaged gave him the impression that there was more behind it all. They could've attacked Murdock anytime at the V.A.  
Why wait? Why let them go to Chicago and follow them?  
Was the whole team in danger right now? B.A glared at the dark pack of clouds once more.  
This didn't bode well...

"They're still there, big guy," Murdock sighed while peering into his side mirror and spotting the pick-up that drove a few cars behind them. It had just changed lanes and bobbed into view again.

"As soon as we approach a somewhat bigger town, I will try and shake 'm off," B.A grunted.

"I guess...," Murdock mumbled.

"I hope the Colonel will have a plan soon," he added vaguely.

B.A turned to the crazy man with a raised eyebrow.

"The Colonel ain't here, fool..,"

"Pfff," Murdock airily waved the remark away with his hand. "That's just a technical detail,"

"If he could just start making a plan already, we will be out of trouble Lickety-Split! Mark my words."

"What'd ya mean?" B.A demanded, though immediately regretting his question.

The lanky pilot tore his eyes away from the side mirror and turned to the bulky mechanic who gave him a quick irritable glance.

"I know Hannibal inside out," Murdock said matter of factly.

"We have a special telepathic connection, the Colonel and I... In fact, we _all_ do! 'Cause we're a team!"

B.A rolled his eyes. There we go again...

"I have no telepathic connection with no-one!" he snapped.

"Not true, big guy, not true" Murdock said with such patience in his voice, he could've been talking to a stubborn child.

"We have a connection, and I will prove it to you."

Murdock brought his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut with a look of deep concentration. Then he said: "B.A! Quick! What thought is lingering in my head _rrrright now?"_

"There ain't nothing in yo' head, sucka!" B.A muttered without looking at the pilot.

"CORRRRECT!" Murdock said with an ecstatic cry.

He'd opened his eyes and stared at the gold-clad man with a smirk that said 'I-told-you-so' that made B.A slightly fume inside.

"See? That proves it. It was a trick question. I was thinking _absolutely_ nothing. My mind was a 100% blank... Mind you, it took me quite some effort too."

B.A gave a sigh of exasperation. Suddenly the recent attack and their stalking pick-up truck seemed completely forgotten. The bulky mechanic decided to humor his friend. Though he didn't feel much for triggering more jibber jabber, so he silently promised himself not to utter another word until the pilot would stop speaking nonsense.  
Murdock however, had no intention of stopping at all.

"Let's turn it around," he said happily.

"Oh no...," B.A thought while desperately clenching his teeth together.

"I assure you that I will know _exactly_ what your next words will be. And I will speak along with you.  
Let's hear them, _Brother!_ "

The sergeant's hands suddenly gripped hard around the steering wheel and before he could help himself, he yelled: "I ain't yo' brother!" _exactly_ the same moment Murdock yelled it too. All the while doing a rather impressive imitation of B.A's gruff voice.

B.A gave the crazy man a look of surprise. Then his usual scowl returned.

"Stop talkin' like me!" both he and Murdock snapped at each other in tune.

B.A really started fuming now.

"Quit it, sucka!" Murdock and B.A both bellowed in unison.

"That's it!"  
The muscular mechanic was about to grab the lanky pilot by his collar again, but Murdock anticipated the move and slid _just_ out of reach. Huffing angrily, B.A settled back in his seat, keeping the van on the road while occasionally shooting daggers at his gleeful teammate.

"Told you, big guy!" Murdock said with a smug expression on his features. "We're connected."

B.A grumbled something incoherently under his breath while concentrating on the road again.

"Uh oh," Murdock suddenly said, as he sat up straight in his seat and peered at the road in front of them.

B.A had seen it too.  
He slowed down as a line of bright orange pylons came into view. There was a road sign that said 'Road work ahead - Detour' .  
A group of men, dressed in neon-yellow vests with the words 'traffic corps' written on the back, were motioning the traffic into lanes.  
The moment the van came into sight, two men turned and signaled them into a queue where other cars were waiting in turn for instructions.  
"Do we make a run for it?" Murdock asked hesitantly with a somewhat strained voice.  
B.A looked at the scene in front of him and realized he had to think fast. It seemed like the working men were just giving car drivers instructions on what directions to take.

"No," He quickly decided. "They are no MP's, and it don't do us no good bein' chased by cops and drivin' right into a dug-up road. Better keep our heads low and behave like normal civilians"

Murdock couldn't help but snort at that.

"Not that a roadblock ever stopped ' _you'_ ," He grinned, remembering one of the narrow escapes they'd made a while back.

"Still I'd feel better when armed, just in case we DO need to make a run for it," he added while jumping from his seat and making his way to the back of the van to open the crate of weapons.

"Hey that's weird, the lock is broken," He mumbled as he lowered to sit on his knees.

B.A, who didn't catch Murdock's last words, followed the gestured instructions of the working men and joined the back of the waiting line with a growing feeling of unease.  
He noticed the pick-up truck closing the queue right behind them and saw one of its doors open. Just as B.A was considering hitting the gas to get the hell out of there, he heard Murdock gasp loudly.

"What's wrong?"

B.A wanted to look around but noticed one of the traffic corps men was approaching the van.

Murdock dashed back into the passenger's seat and opened the glove box of the dashboard while rummaging through it feverishly in search of Hannibal's handgun. He knew it should be in there. But instead, he found some coins, a cigar and B.A's remote control that was connected to a camera hidden under the front bumper

"What is it!?" B.A hissed while eyeing the man who was now signaling him to park the van at the side of the road.

"The weapons, all gone! The - the box was unlocked... All guns, rifles, grenades, GONE!" Murdock said while frantically looking around with the remote control still clutched in his hands.

The bulky sergeant suddenly hit the brake so hard it made both men topple forward. Then he turned around and gave Murdock a perplexed look.  
Why hadn't they checked before? When did the weapons get stolen? How?  
But there was no time to contemplate about the missing weapons.  
A sharp rapping on B.A's door window broke the silence.  
Before turning his head, B.A already knew from the expression on Murdock's face that they were in trouble. Big trouble!  
One of the traffic corps people stood at his door, aiming a gun at him with a foul smile on his features.  
As Murdock turned around, he too found a man with a gun pointing at him, though this guy wasn't wearing the same bright yellow vest. He wore a black hat and had a long dark ponytail.  
His thin lips curled up as he looked at Murdock with glowing eyes.  
Behind the man, Murdock could see the other traffic corps men signaling traffic to move on while removing the roadblock signs again. The big pick-up truck moved forward and parked next to the van to block them out of view for any passersby.

"Open the window," the man at B.A's side barked. The bulky sergeant obeyed, though with an obvious air of resentment.

"Put your hands on the wheel in front of you..." the man said with a commanding voice after B.A had lowered his window,

"Do nothing, or your friend gets it."

B.A placed his hands on the steering wheel with a murderous glare at the man.

"You!" The man now pointed at Murdock with his gun. "What are you holding? Drop it! Keep your hands in the air."

Murdock gazed down at his hands.  
He was still clutching the joystick-like device.  
In a moment of inspiration, he pressed the big red 'record' button while quickly shoving the thing back into the glove box. Pointing two fingers in the air he watched the man apprehensively. Billy started growling, his hackles raised.

"Hush, Billy," Murdock muttered quietly under his breath.

The crook on Murdock's side opened the sliding door and hopped into the backseat right behind the pilot.  
As he sat down, he aimed his gun at the back of the pilot's head while hurriedly forcing the door shut again.

"You're good, Hunter?" the man at B.A's window inquired.

"I got this," Hunter answered while licking his lips excitedly.  
His eyes were wild as he plastered an ominous grin on his face. He had a bone to pick with the skinny fella. He hadn't forgotten about his failed attempt to capture the pilot at the store. He'd _never_ missed a target before and still felt the humiliation thriving through him. He was determined not to fail his task this time.

"Now move," he barked while his colleague retreated to help his other colleagues moving the traffic away from the scene.

B.A, still scowling, started the engine and followed the instructions.  
The pick-up truck immediately followed their example and tailed after the van.

"Take a turn here and keep going until I tell you to stop," Hunter said.

"And no tricks or your looney friend will get it." He pushed the gun hard against the back of Murdock's head who sat slightly huddled in his seat.

B.A glanced at his friend and noticed that the man was staring at the space between his feet with a thoughtful expression on his face. His eyes seemed to follow something B.A couldn't see.  
The bulky mechanic glowered, noting that the ponytail had settled himself firmly behind the pilot now. The man was thin and physically no match for B.A's fists, but he seemed fast and agile. Probably had good reflexes too. It was too risky to try anything without the pilot getting hurt.  
Murdock shifted in his seat, reached out, and started making wavy moves with his hand.  
B.A knew exactly what the lanky pilot was seeing. Billy, the imaginary dog, had been riding along with them all day. It was a symptom of the pilot's distress, though usually rather innocent.

"Shhh, Billy, it's okay boy," the lanky pilot whispered soothingly while stroking the air in front of him.

"I said, 'hands up'!" Hunter shouted while hitting Murdock on the back of the head with the handle of his gun.

A painful gasp escaped from Murdock's lips as he lowered his head. Tiny black dots momentarily clouded his vision. Blinking hard, he composed himself and raised both hands with two fingers pointing upwards.

"If he bites you, it'll be on yo' account," he drawled quietly. Hunter gave him a puzzled look but decided to ignore it.

"You'll pay for that!" B.A growled at the man in the back. But Hunter merely shrugged.

"Remember who has the gun, pal!" He warned.

Taking his eyes from Murdock, he added: "Take a right turn here." He pointed with his free hand at an upcoming side road.

B.A, still glaring, obeyed grudgingly and steered the van onto what seemed like a long and winding dirt road.  
Soon, the scraggly bushes alongside the trail made way for tall-growing birch trees.  
They'd entered a forest while the pick-up was still tailing after them. B.A noticed that an old dark blue four-door sedan with a broken headlight had joined the queue.  
A sign alongside the track warned for a 'low maintenance road'.  
As the dirt road was getting rougher, they experienced a rather bumpy ride. Despite their situation, B.A couldn't help but worry about the chassis of the van after a particularly big gap that he couldn't dodge properly.  
The sky darkened still and drew long shadows from the tall trees which gave the dim-lit forest a rather ghostly appearance.

"Have we met?" Murdock suddenly asked as he turned around to face the man behind him. He seemed unphased by the threat of the gun but was still holding two fingers in the air. His face looked calm and curious, but B.A knew that his friend's need to keep up a dialogue was his way of masking his real nerves.

"I'd like to know. Billy keeps snarling like mad at you."

"Eyes front!" Hunter commanded while waving his gun and giving Murdock a hard push with the other hand. Murdock flinched and turned around again.

Who's Billy!" Hunter then asked, sounding a little alarmed while glancing around to make sure there wasn't another passenger lurking in the back of the van.

"Why, ma dog Billy of course!" Murdock answered as if it had been a rather silly question. B.A's clenched his teeth, knowing the lanky pilot was going to make matters worse for himself.

"He doesn't seem to like you very much. He's positively foaming" Murdock continued in a rapid babble.

"Mind you, he's been havin' a phase for the last few days. Been restless all day long, doesn't wanna play fetch no more, whines a lot, eats poorly. He only wants animal crackers and I didn't bring any along, so he's getting quite grouchy and dr. Richter says he ..."

"Why don't you just shut your bloody yap!" Hunter yelled, pushing the gun hard against the back of the pilot's head and forcing him to bend forward.

"Better keep your mouth shut..." B.A muttered under his breath at Murdock, "Or I'll jam it shut myself!" he added, noting the building agitation of the trigger-happy man with the gun behind his friend.

"But..," Murdock tried again.

B.A gave the pilot a warning glare.  
Murdock, with the gun still pushed against his head, pressed his lips together and bit his tongue, wondering what was going to happen next.  
It turned out that he would find out very soon...

The track was blocked by a bunch of fallen trees and B.A was forced to steer the van into a clearing.

"Stop here," Hunter said with a flickering smile on his lips.

B.A obeyed but then something weird happened. The black vehicle jerked after hitting another big bump in the road that made the mechanic grind his teeth. Without a warning, the van suddenly stopped in track and the engine shut off of its own accord. With a frown on his face, B.A tried to start the engine again but nothing happened.  
B.A and Murdock glanced at each other in surprise.  
Since Hunter had ordered B.A to stop anyway, he didn't seem to have noticed.  
Meanwhile, the pick-up with the faded lettering parked in front of the van while the dark-blue car with the broken headlight stayed behind to block any possible exit routes. B.A looked around in desperation.  
They were trapped!

Five more men emerged from the vehicles with guns in their hands.  
B.A and Murdock were roughly forced out of their seats and pushed in front of the van where they stumbled to the middle of the small clearing.  
While straightening up, B.A observed the men who had by now completely surrounded them with their weapons trained on the two of them.  
He tried to seize up each and every one of them while looking for a weak spot in their defenses. But to his frustration, he couldn't find any.

The forest was slowly getting darker, and small drops of rain started to fall. The few birds and owls they'd heard earlier suddenly stopped making sounds and the silence that followed felt unnerving.  
Standing back to back with their hands held in the air, Murdock couldn't suppress a shudder as he looked into the shadowed faces of the men keeping them at gunpoint.  
B.A noticed the tension of his friend.

"Keep it together man," he whispered gruffly.

But Murdock couldn't hear him. His galloping mind was currently filling him with a mixture of contradicting emotions.  
On one hand, he was both happy and relieved that his delusions hadn't been delusions after all. Here he was, facing his previously invisible enemy, being super visible now.  
Apparently, he hadn't been as crazy as he'd feared he was. Or had he?  
But on the other hand; this wasn't exactly the way he'd wanted to find out about it. Not with his best friend alongside in such a dangerous situation.  
It didn't help that Billy's whining had grown intenser by the minute. Murdock found it hard to concentrate on his surroundings and swallowed hard. His widened eyes followed his dog who nervously kept walking circles around him. Then a man dressed in a parka and a black hat stepped in front of him, forcing Murdock to look up in his pitch black eyes. One hand was stroking his goatee as he glared at the lanky man. The other hand held a gun but was currently pointing at the ground.

"Well then, " Don spoke with a cold voice. "How are you feeling today, Mr. Murdock...?"

Murdock blinked and shot the man a bewildered look.

B.A turned around to face the parka-man as well while flexing his muscles threateningly.

"W-Whaddaya mean?" Murdock stammered, looking around wildly before staring at the man again. Did he know this guy? A curious frown formed on his face.

"Of course, I refer to your recent mental setback, Mr. Murdock," Don continued.

"I read Dr. Richter's files about your case...  
Paranoia... Delusions... Sleep deprived," Don made a tutting sound.

"The good man doesn't seem to believe you, does he...?" He added with a cold taunting tone of voice. "Just wants to pump you full of pills and be done with it, am I right?"

Murdock just stared at him incredulously, but Don could see that he'd hit a vulnerable spot.

"Maybe you don't even know for sure if you're having a nightmare right now. Maybe all of this is just a hallucination too."

Murdock felt cold sweat forming on his brow. His hands started to tremble, and he felt bile forming in his throat at those words.

"D-Don't say that!" Murdock said as a wave of insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks.

His sweaty hands slowly balled into fists as he stared at the man in front of him. Billy had started barking now. Louder and louder...

Don just smiled humorlessly at the pale man in front of him. He knew that it wouldn't take much effort to push his target over the edge.  
They'd been building up his anxiety for weeks. Maybe it wasn't really necessary, but it was enjoyable to see the man squirm in doubt and uncertainty. He was relishing the moment. Don always had a tendency to play with his prey before finishing the job.

"Murdock, don't listen to him," B.A said in a low voice while trying to make eye-contact with his trembling friend.

"Oh but he should," Don laughed. "Afterall, he will never know what's real or not. Do you, Mr. Murdock?"

The lanky pilot gave a soft whimper as he jammed his fists over his ears and started humming in an attempt to escape from the penetrating words that the parka-man shot at him.

"This is just sad, isn't it?" Don continued while addressing B.A who'd put a hand on the pilot's shoulders to shake him out of it.

"Seeing your friend driven to insanity so easily. No wonder you don't like working with him. I know _'I'_ wouldn't." Don chuckled.

"Who would want to have an insane pilot in his team? Especially one who can't even distinguish nightmares from reality."

B.A looked helpless as he saw his friend flinch at his touch. Still humming, Murdock squeezed his eyes shut to block out the world.  
The mechanic felt a chill run down his spine as he recognized the song: 'You are my sunshine'.  
First, the pilot had sang softly, but then he became louder and more frantic as Billy's sudden _howls_ had started to become deafening to the crazy man's ears. B.A couldn't stand it any longer. The threat around him forgotten, he grabbed Murdock's hands and pulled them away from his ears.

"Shut up, man!" B.A barked, still holding the shaking fists of his friend into his own. "Keep it together!"

Murdock's eyes flew open in shock. He momentarily stopped singing and forcefully pulled his hands out of the big mans' grip.  
He started to back away, his eyes following something on the ground.  
A flash of light and a low sound of thunder could be heard in the distance as more drops of rain started to fall.

"I-It's Billy," Murdock stammered, looking at B.A with scared eyes. "He-he won't stop _howling_ "

"I said, shut up, fool!" B.A shouted in desperation. He didn't know what else to do and could feel a wave of ice cold fear hit him as he remembered what Murdock had told him about howling dogs; Someone was going to die!

"Please, let me do it for you," Don said with an almost bored voice that was lacking any emotion. He checked his watch. Clearly, he'd had enough of the scene. It was time to get the job done.

"Seize him," he said while pointing with his head at B.A.

Without warning, B.A was grappled from behind and held at gunpoint by two of the taller men. The bulky mechanic who had been too occupied with his friend struggled and shouted as he noticed Don raising his gun.

"Murdock, get out of here!" B.A bellowed desperately. Murdock looked dazed as he slowly turned around to face Don.

"Goodbye, Mr. Murdock. You've been very helpful. Now please shut up."

Before either Murdock or B.A had time to react, a loud bang echoed through the trees.

Murdock didn't even make a sound. His back abruptly arched backward by the impact of the bullet and his body hit the ground with a dull thud. His cap flew through the air and found its way to B.A's feet who stared at it in disbelief.  
The lanky man landed on his back, his arms spread-eagled, and his long legs tangled in an awkward pose, his shoelace untied again. As the rain started pouring down, his head slowly lolled to the side while blood and rain started spreading over his right temple. His eyes still open to slits, gazed dully into nothingness.

In the dim light, B.A stared at the limp body on the ground that was slightly illuminated by the headlights of the still running pick-up truck.

B.A started shouting Murdock's name on the top of his lungs.  
His mind screamed, denying every bit of the scene that had just taken place in front of him.  
NO! Not like this! Not Murdock! It couldn't be real!  
But there was no denying it. Reality stared him right in the face as Don started laughing cruelly.

* * *

It was getting late.  
Hannibal and Face were still on route with Hannibal at the wheel.  
The older man looked tired, and Face was about to suggest to pull over and have him take over the wheel for a while.  
Face noticed the worry lines on Hannibal's determined looking face. The conman knew that behind that look a whirlwind of gears was busy forming a plan to rescue their boys.  
They were very lucky to have a lead thanks to the call they'd received earlier that afternoon.  
A man named Don had contacted them on the car phone to ask for a status report.  
Face had tried his best to imitate the voice of one of the goons Bert, who was still sitting slumped down in the back seat of the car with his colleague. Both men were still tightly bound and blissfully unconscious.  
Fortunately, It hadn't been too much of a difficulty to fool Don.  
Face had made scratchy sounds to make the man believe that they were experiencing a bad telephone connection due to the long distance. He'd cleverly muffled the sound of his voice and Don had accepted it without question.  
When Don inquired about their whereabouts, Face informed him that they were on the road and tailing after the two targets as planned. He gave the man their coordinates and Don seemed pleased.

"Good, Very good...," Don had said. "I expect the two of you at the intersection of the Veteran Memorial highway tonight. Let me know when you are close and we'll set up the roadblock again. We'll be meeting up at the old Silver Creek Mill when we've captured all four of them. I'll call you back in an hour or two."

Face had hung up and let out a low and long sigh before updating Hannibal about the call.  
The conman immediately grabbed the roadmap and started searching for the mentioned highway. After some time he had an indication where the intersection was that Don had mentioned over the phone. But he hadn't been able to find the mentioned Mill. Hannibal suggested they would have to pull over to ask for directions at some point.  
At least they now knew where to find the guys.

Another hour had passed and silence had taken over the car again. Face let Hannibal silently work on a strategy to find the guys while he examined the road map on his lap once more.  
The sudden ringing sound of the phone broke the silence, and Face picked it up eagerly. Hannibal sat up straight while pricking up his ears in an attempt to listen in on the conversation.

"Bert speakin'," Face said with a voice that he hoped sounded like the unconscious man in the back of their car.

The conman's answers were short as he listened to the man on the other end of the line while making the scraping sounds with his fingernail.  
Suddenly his body tensed and his eyes widened.  
Hannibal looked up and raised an eyebrow at his lieutenant.

"I see," Face said with a face that was quickly draining of all color. He glanced nervously at Hannibal who gave him a beseeching look.  
Face felt his body tremble, though with a little effort he managed to keep his voice steady and emotionless.

"Yes, I understand. We're positive they're taking the 15. We'll let you know if things change."

Face slowly hang up the phone and for a second he didn't dare to look at his commander.

"Report, lieutenant," Hannibal said impatiently while a feeling of dread started to fill his heart.

"They captured them. They have B.A and Murdock," Face said with a slight tremble in his voice. "But Don said he'd already gotten rid of one of them to save him the hassle. He mentioned that they only needed three men of the A-team anyway."

Hannibal gave him a penetrating stare. Shock was clearly visible in his icy blue eyes.

Face swallowed. "I couldn't ask what he meant exactly, or it would certainly have blown our cover. But it sounded like he ..." Face paused for a second. "killed Murdock." he finished softly.

Hannibal nodded cooly while staring at the road in front of him.  
He couldn't believe it. His mind just wouldn't allow it.  
He needed to keep his wits about him. Needed to think of a solid solution.

"He's only dead when we find a body, lieutenant!" Hannibal said firmly after what seemed like minutes.  
"Until then, we assume he is alive and needs help. That's what I need to believe right now."

He turned to Face, "That's what we _both_ need to believe."

Face nodded. He felt numb inside, but he had to believe they were going to find both their friends well and alive.  
Hiding his feelings far away, a new determination replaced his fear and uncertainty. They were going to find out where B.A and Murdock were kept.  
They were not going to leave their teammates alone.

* * *

The night was starting to fall and the rain had already stopped pouring. The thunderstorm hadn't lasted long in the end. |  
Don leaned against his car, his car phone still in hand while smoking a cigarette.

He looked satisfied as his men hauled B.A from the pick-up and into the old building which they'd vacated as their hideout place.  
The injured man staggered as he walked. His wounded leg and shoulder were bleeding profusely as he limped along with his armed guards. They had a firm grip on the man, but it didn't seem necessary.  
The big and muscular man looked deflated somehow. His eyes looked dull and tired.  
Don watched Baracus being dragged away. This was exactly what he'd hoped for. Taking away the man's spirit would make him so much easier to handle.  
Target M had served his purpose perfectly.

Don's lips curled slightly as his eyes strayed slowly over the ground in front of him.  
There was a big old wooden building that looked like it hadn't been used in over a century. Behind it lay a big pond, though it had almost dried out.  
Back in the glory days, the old structure had been a working stamp mill that processed silver during the mining days. Hence its name, Silver Creek Mill.  
Now it looked old and abandoned. Part of it had been destroyed by a fire and showed the signs of a renovation in later times. There was a newer building, rather modern in comparison, that was built right next to the mill. It had been used as a museum until the end of the 70's.  
An elderly nostalgic and a rather optimistic millionaire had thought the old mill could be a fun side-project to earn some extra money.  
But in the end, he had to face the fact that no-one seemed to be interested in this bit of history and after losing interest in it himself he decided it was time to close down the museum. The old pick-up truck still had some lettering on it, though it had faded a little over time.  
It still read: 'Silver Creek Mill Museum'.

The place had been abandoned for years now. Don's boss had bought the land for a small price. It was perfect and remote enough to stay secret and go unnoticed.  
Don flicked the remains of his finished cigarette on the ground and dialed the numbers on his phone.  
Things went according to plan, and it was time to update his boss.  
He would soon be paid plenty for his efforts of capturing the A-team.  
Their targets Smith and Peck were already heading their way.  
Nothing could go wrong.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8 - Waking up

Chapter 8 - Waking up

Hello hello there.  
I am sending you this new chapter 'just' before I am heading for a week-long vacation (lucky me!).  
But I wanted to update before leaving. It's a chapter that is focused on our favorite pilot, who by the way, isn't dead. Just a very lucky guy...  
Next chapter will reveal what the other guys are up to.  
But for now, enjoy this one. (I hope I have filtered out all grammar mistakes of typos. If not, my apologies. I won't be able to fix it until next week). ;)

P.S: Thanks so much again for the chats, the reviews, the kind words and words of encouragement. 3

* * *

Chapter 8 - waking up

It was already long past nightfall.

The full moon was shining brightly through the thin skeletal branches of the birch trees.  
Their milky white bark looked pale and rather ghostlike against the blackened sky. It had stopped raining hours ago, and the damp forest was full of nightlife.  
Small critters moved around the grounds, rustling hurriedly through the still humid leaves as they went. The night predators were hunting, and now and then you could hear an occasional cry of their unfortunate preys echoing through the trees.

A sudden loud scream of a screech owl coming from the canopy of the trees made the lonely figure on the ground stir.  
The figure, a lanky man wearing a pilot jacket with a tiger painting on the back, lay on his side, half-hidden under a bush with his back against a tree trunk.  
One arm covered most of his face as his long legs lay sprawled over the forest floor.

In the distance, a pack of coyotes started howling long and with high-pitched yips. The eery and foreboding noise rebooted Murdock's senses.  
He simply lay there listening while his mind slowly registered each and every sound and movement around him. A small frown pinched his blood-stained features as he wondered if he was awake or perhaps still taking part in something close to a nightmare. The sounds started to make him feel very uneasy.  
This didn't sound much like his room at the V.A.

Gingerly, Murdock brushed the fingers of his free hand over the forest ground. He thought he'd recognized little twigs, leaves and damp grass. The smell of the musty soil underneath him filled his nostrils. Suddenly something cold and slithery brushed against his fingers. Murdock instinctively jerked his hand away in alarm.

 _NO - Nope - No siree! This was definitely not his bed at the V.A!_

With a painful grimace, the pilot removed his heavy arm from his face. His dark eyes fluttered open and blinked a few times as he tried to focus on his surroundings.  
It was dark around him, and for a frightening moment, the pilot thought he'd lost his sight. But then, gradually, the scene around him became a little bit clearer thanks to the cool moonlight. He squinted hard and tried to get a better view of his environment while the fog in his head started to lift a little.  
But even though he tried his best, he couldn't discern much more besides tall shadowy shapes and silhouettes, which he supposed were trees.  
The injured man shuddered involuntarily.  
His clothes were cold and clammy, and his face felt a little stiff like it was covered with dirt of some kind.  
Murdock felt little leaves and specks of grime clung to his face like a mask. He brushed it off impatiently and pulled himself unsteadily onto one elbow.  
A low moan escaped his lips as the movement was complimented with a sudden rush of dizziness.  
Murdock tried to ignore it, but it proved to be hard with a head that had started pounding like a happy bongo drum.  
Clenching his teeth, he made himself sit up while leaning heavily against the tree. Panting hard while taking short gasps of air, the world around him had started spinning like a merry-go-round. The captain squeezed his eyes shut, willing the commotion in his head to stop.  
But it didn't help.

"E-Easy guys. Take your party elsewhere...," Murdock muttered to no-one in particular with a pain filled expression on his face.

Something was wrong. His head just felt _all_ _wrong_.  
After a minute, the spell of dizziness finally started to fade.  
Eyes still closed, and trying hard not to move his head too much, Murdock raised a hand and gingerly started examining his throbbing scalp. What the heck had happened to him?  
His hands moved to the right side of his head. He let out a short gasp of pain as he touched something that felt like a deep gash above his right ear. It appeared sticky and swollen, and though he couldn't see it, he was pretty sure his hair was matted with dried blood. He hoped that, whatever it was, it had stopped bleeding by now.  
As his hand continued its examination, he also discovered a big lump on the back of his head. Murdock winced as he touched it, and lowered his hand in confusion.  
Did he fall and hit his head?  
Not exactly what the doctor would've ordered.  
What had happened? Where were the guys?

Murdock opened his eyes to slits and tried looking around again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness a little, and he could finally see a bit clearer now. It seemed he was all alone.  
A high creepy yelp of an animal could be heard in the distance. Murdock started and suddenly he felt very lost and lonely.  
If only he could remember what had happened to him... But it was like his mind was blocking him in every possible way.  
He couldn't remember a thing!

Closing his eyes once more, Murdock softly rubbed his temples.

"Think H.M... think!"

Did he crash a plane again?  
Possibly.  
He'd done it before…. Though he sincerely hoped he hadn't because, for one, it was such a messy thing to do... And second of all, he was pretty sure that the big guy wouldn't be too happy with him if he had.  
Groggily, the pilot opened his eyes again and peered around.

"G-Guys?" He tried hesitantly as he struggled to get up to his feet.

His voice sounded strange and out of place in the dark forest.  
Why hadn't he tried to call them earlier?  
With a little effort, Murdock made it back to his feet. For a moment, he swayed dangerously on his legs while clinging to the tree for dear balance.

"B.A?" he shouted again.

No answer.

Slowly a thought occurred to him and he grasped it like it was a life line.  
The last thing he remembered, he was with B.A, in the van!...  
Talking... He was sure they were talking about something...  
What was it? Houdini?  
Murdock frowned as he tried his best to remember.  
Did that even make sense? His mind felt like it had been ripped into little segments of time. He tried to grab them and put them together like a puzzle, but it seemed a losing battle.  
Then suddenly another memory returned and Murdock shuddered involuntarily.  
There was something else. He remembered little fragments from the V.A. Feelings of angst and self-doubt were coming back to him, and moments of feeling watched.  
Something had been hunting him! Or maybe _it_ had been hunting all of them. He wasn't sure.  
A wave of fear and frustration filled his dazed mind. His wide eyes frantically searched the darkness around him.  
What if the boys were in trouble and they needed his help? What if they depended on him? Something had happened to B.A! He was sure of it.  
Something bad had happened. But what?  
WHAT?!

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Murdock blindly stumbled forward.  
Even though he had no idea what direction he was going he _had_ to find the guys.  
Within a few steps however, Murdock's knees buckled. The pilot landed on all fours as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him like an anvil.  
He retched, and what little had been in his stomach had found its way to the forest floor.

"I hope that whatever was crawling there had time to take cover...," Murdock thought dryly while drawing in a shaky breath and slowly getting back to his feet again.

At least his squirming stomach felt somewhat relieved.  
Even his head felt a bit clearer, though it was still pounding and possibly doing the samba now. He wasn't sure.  
While steadying himself, Murdock put his hands in his jacket pockets and started rummaging in search for a paper tissue. To his relief, he found one, and with trembling hands, he cleaned up his mouth.  
Then a sudden thought occurred to him.  
Quickly searching his pockets again, he uttered a triumphant "Aha.." and produced a tiny pocket flashlight.  
He'd used it for nighttime readings in the van when they were on the road at night. Holding it gratefully in his hands, he could almost kiss it, but only last minute he resisted the urge.

 _What if it kissed him back?_

As he switched it on, he let the tiny beam illuminate the ground in front of him. It didn't help much, but it gave the lanky pilot something to hold on to. He felt relieved that he hadn't exhausted its batteries yet and hoped they would hold on just long enough for him to get away from wherever he was.  
As he moved the little beam of light over the grounds, Murdock noticed a slope in the landscape only a step away from where he stood. His eyes fell on a track of disturbed leaves and soil and followed it slanting upwards. It looked like something had slid down the hill.

"I guess I was the one slidin' down," Murdock grumbled as he followed the track and climbed the slope at a painfully slow pace.

"Hope I had fun..." he added bitterly while taking deep steadying breaths to will away a fresh wave of nausea.

As he reached the top of the small hill, Murdock swaggered again and grabbed a tree for support.

"Excuse me, M'am," he apologized to the tree while leaning heavily and waiting for the dizzyness to fade away.

As the forest finally decided to stop twirling, Murdock resumed his sleuthing.  
For a second there, he thought he'd lost the trail out of sight. The small beam of light only illuminated small parts of the forest ground, and he searched it frantically until his eyes finally caught it again.  
Murdock heaved a sigh of relief, muttered something incoherently and carried on.  
Slowly and with dragging feet, the lanky pilot found his way through the trees and bushes. The forest grew darker as clouds started to cover the moon.

Murdock thought he could hear a sound of a snapping twig and looked up in alarm.  
Without warning, a big black silhouette doomed up right in front of the pilot. Murdock froze to the spot as he clumsily dropped the flashlight to the ground. It rolled away just within reach, but Murdock didn't dare to grab it. The lanky man's neck hairs raised as his tired and confused eyes stared up at the big thing in front of him. He didn't dare to move a muscle.  
It seemed to glare down at him with angry shiny eyes but it didn't move. It was as if it was waiting for something.  
Murdock swallowed hard, not sure what to do. It was too dark to make a run for it and the way he felt right now, he wasn't sure if his legs were up to the task anyway. The big black monster would surely swallow him whole if he tried!  
Instead, he just stood there, unable to move while a cool breeze made the tree leaves around him rustle gently in the wind.  
Then suddenly, the clouds in front of the moon lifted and a bright beam of moonlight fell over the forest.  
Murdock almost cried out of relief.  
There it was, the big black van, shimmering slightly in the gleam of the moon as a welcoming friend. The monster had only been a figment of his imagination and the injured man felt a warm feeling of gratitude washing over him.  
Murdock stumbled forward, spread his arms wide, fell forward and hugged the van for a long long time. His face was resting gently on the hood. The cool surface of metal felt wonderfully good to his tender head.

"You can't imagine, how good it is to see you 'gain, girl," Murdock drawled while his eyes started drooping.

He wanted to say more, tell her that she shouldn't have scared him like that, but he didn't have the strength. He could gladly fall asleep right here, right now. But he mustn't. He had to keep moving.  
With slight reluctance, Murdock lifted his head, stood up and made his way to the sliding door of the van. Thank goodness it was unlocked! He carefully slid open the door and crawled his way to the safest place he knew; his usual seat in the back, right behind the driver's seat.  
His face looked strained as his body settled itself in the soft padding of the chair while small beads of sweat formed on his brow.  
For a while he was just sitting there, savoring the small comforts of sitting down and doing something very close to nothing. Gradually his breathing calmed down and his body relaxed a bit.  
This little journey had definitely drained him of his last reserves.  
His head still felt funny as if it had been stuffed with an unseemly amount of cotton balls.  
Again, the pull of sleep tried to capture him and Murdock fought hard to keep his eyes open. All he really wanted to do was give in and closing them. But he couldn't... The guys were depending on him.  
All his senses told him something had happened to his gold clad friend in particular. A little voice in the back of his mind was telling him as much. B.A had been the last memory he'd had. Hopefully, Face and Hannibal were on their way to help him, but he didn't count on it.

Murdock sighed in frustration as he tried to pick his brain to remember more. But it was of no use. His head was hurting so much, it seemed impossible to grasp any more details, and the thought alone was terrifying him.  
What if the memories wouldn't return to him at all? What if the guys were in trouble right now, and the information to save them wouldn't come to him? A new surge of panic started to overpower the pilot's exhausted mind and he knew he was going to lose the battle to stay conscious. Blinking hard, Murdock searched frantically for something, ANYTHING, that could help him form a plan. But what could he do?  
He blinked again, still struggling but much slower this time. His eyelids were as heavy as sandbags.

Blink...

He had to... stay... awake. He couldn't sleep...yet

Another slow blink.  
No... he should... keep them... open!

Blink...

Without realizing it, his labored breathing started to calm down and his thoughts finally drifted off to a dark place where all was peaceful and quiet.

* * *

As Murdock opened his eyes again, his body jerked in surprise.  
Who'd turned on the lights?!  
The disoriented pilot looked around in bewilderment. His vigilance immediately took over as the van's interior was suddenly bathed by a warm orange glow. Hadn't it been pitch black inside only a minute ago? And hadn't it been the middle of the night just now?  
Murdock squinted his eyes against the low sunbeams entering through the vehicle's windshield.  
Song birds were singing, and the eery sounds of screeching owls and hunting predators had completely disappeared.  
If nobody was playing a joke on him, which he thought was very unlikely, it had become morning...

Groggily, Murdock realized he must've blacked out for at least a couple of hours.  
Darn! This wasn't good. He had no time for fainting and all that jazz. There was no time at all!  
As he sat up straight, a shudder coursed through his body. The pilot still felt cold to the bone.  
Even though his damp clothes had dried up, they still didn't do much to warm him. But Murdock ignored it.  
With new determination, the crazy pilot stood up from his chair. Still feeling slightly off-balance, he made his way to the driver's seat.  
The keys were still dangling from the ignition but Murdock didn't waste any time deliberating his luck.  
The only thought he could focus on was finding his friends. He would simply retrace the car tracks that were clearly visible in the mud, and return to civilization. There, he would try and form a new plan, fervently hoping his memory would be willing to cooperate by that time.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Murdock steadied himself and turned the key of the van. He was finally going to get out of here!  
There was a moment of silence and Murdock frowned.  
Nothing had happened.  
He stared down at the key, of which he coincidentally happened to see two, and realized that the van hadn't started.  
He tried the key again, but to no avail.  
Uh oh...

"Come on, Baby," Murdock whispered desperately as he tried the key again and again.

Nothing.

The injured man groaned in frustration and rested his arms and head on the steering wheel. Apparently, this was 'not' his day.  
As he was wondering what to do next, he noticed a small blinking red light from the corner of his eyes that he hadn't noticed before.  
Turning his head, Murdock saw it came from the open glove compartment.  
Intrigued, the lanky pilot bent forward, reached out and grabbed a joystick-shaped object. He had the funny feeling he'd seen it before but couldn't quite place it.  
The tiny red light flashed at a steady pace, and underneath it, he could read the word 'Disk full'.  
Then a flash of memory came back to him.  
He heard B.A's deep voice explaining the weird device that he was currently holding in his hands.

"It's connected to a camera that I installed under the front bumper mount of the van.  
I made it at Hannibal's request. Remember you installed that cam when we were rolling up that illegal booze business? Well, I made a better cam.  
Might come in handy again."

Murdock's eyes widened in recognition.  
It looked like the camera had been recording something. Maybe... just _MAYBE_ there was a chance he could actually _SEE_ what had happened.  
Was Lady Luck joining his side again? He surely hoped so.  
The device had a small display that looked like that of a camcorder. There were buttons labeled 'play, stop, rewind and pause'.  
Murdock pushed the rewind button and heard a comforting whirling sound. After a couple of seconds, he heard a firm click. Then, turning the small display around to face him, he held his breath and pushed the play button.  
The first part of the tape showed a long and winding road that changed into a bumpy dirt road. Murdock took in every part of it, trying to memorize the route they took and making mental notes of the landmarks. The road looked badly maintained.  
The pilot was amazed that they hadn't lost the camera halfway during their journey due to the bad state of the trail.

As Murdock continued watching the tape, his face slowly contorted in horror. The van had stopped, and he saw B.A and himself being dragged in front of the vehicle with their hands in the air and their backs against each other.  
He couldn't remember any of it, but the longer he watched, the angrier he got. The documentation of the camera had given him a clear view of the drama that had been taking place in front of the van. And he had been a part of it!  
Murdock grimaced as he noticed the thin man with the parka and the hat that had approached him. The tape had no sound, so he could only guess what had been said.  
But even though the display was too small to read the facial expressions of the people in the video, Murdock could read their body language with ease. And his own body language told him he was in severe distress. It was weird seeing himself shrink and behave the way he did. Murdock could see his big buddy friend B.A trying to help him, shaking him thoroughly, though apparently without really reaching him. Then suddenly, the man in the parka had raised his arm, aimed a gun and shot him. Just like that.

Murdock blinked unbelievingly. For a second there his fuzzy mind couldn't really comprehend what he was seeing. But when realization set in, he raised his right hand and gingerly touched the head wound which he'd been trying to ignore until now.  
So he got shot... Did he just watch himself die?  
Watching his crumpling form fall to the ground, he suddenly felt very detached from the world.  
It all felt extremely unreal to him.  
Or at least more than usual.  
Maybe he was a ghost now, and _maybe_ he'd been sent back to earth to avenge his life and rescue the guys...  
Involuntarily he thought of Houdini again.  
 _...You are my sunshine...?_ Murdock winced. He wasn't sure why that song suddenly bubbled up in his mind.  
But why would his head and body hurt so badly if he was dead?  
It didn't really make sense.

A painful throb coursed through his head again, making his eyes water. Murdock grimaced while lowering his hand.  
Nope, he was definitely alive.  
Ghosts didn't feel pain like this, he was sure of it.

Focusing on the video again, Murdock could see the big guy scream and fight, and then after a furious struggle, he'd been taken down. The big guy looked defeated and in pain. Murdock felt angry tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he witnessed his best friend being dragged away out of view. Wounded but still fighting.  
His own body still lay there motionless on the ground, and some guy grabbed his legs and started dragging him away from the van.  
There were men walking in and out of view and then there was nothing for a while. Murdock watched intently, to see if something more would happen, but nothing did.  
Just as he decided to turn off the device, a pick-up truck came into view and passed the van closely. Murdock noticed something written on the side of the vehicle with faded lettering.  
On a sudden impulse, the pilot hit the rewind button before pushing the play-button again. As the pick-up truck came into view once more, he jammed his finger on the pause button with an almost childish enthusiasm.  
There it was! The lettering. A lead perhaps? But what did it say?  
Peering at the small display, he tried to decipher the words.  
It was hard as he still had lapses of double vision and he started to feel faint again. But with some effort, he managed to read the words 'Silver Creek Museum.'

Murdock lowered the remote control and searched his jacket pockets with renewed energy.  
Where was his notebook? He needed to write this down before blacking out again.  
 _Ah, there it is!_  
As Murdock opened his small notebook to the last page, he noticed some recent entries. With interest, he read his small notes and deciphered the secret codes only he knew.  
His eyes cleared up as he gradually started to understand the situation he was in.  
The video had been helpful to fill in part of the blanks, but the notebook had given him a much-needed summary of his current predicament.  
A new fire was burning inside, giving him hope and strength to carry on.  
He had a clue! _Scoobiedoobiedoo!_

But first, he needed to tend to a problem of a whole different caliber.  
The engine of the van still didn't want to start. Murdock hoped he could fix it as he didn't trust his slow and hazy mind much.  
He opened the door, and stiff as a board, slid out of the van while ignoring his discomfort. He needed to focus.  
The lanky man found his way to the front of the vehicle and lifted the hood.

"Tell me what's wrong, girlie. Tell me where it hurts," he cooed to the van while searching for whatever it was that could be causing the defect.

The warm sunbeams on his back felt good and their warming glow gave him a bit more strength to continue.  
Murdock wasn't a very good mechanic, though he understood the basics.  
He'd seen B.A doing his check-ups multiple times, and once or twice he'd even been allowed to help (that is... if he'd managed to keep his mouth shut at the same time which often proved to be quite a challenge).  
Murdock was about to give up as his eyes suddenly fell on something small. Was it a loose bolt...?  
His weary eyes lit up with a spark of hope. This looked like something he could fix! He turned on his heels to get B.A's tool box from the back of the van. A couple of minutes later, he hopefully jumped behind the wheel to see if his little bit of magic had done the trick.  
Murdock touched the key in the ignition with a trembling hand.  
The moment of truth was near...  
He closed his eyes and turned the key.

YES!  
To his great relief, the engine purred like it ever did, and Murdock gave a loud howl of victory. B.A would be proud of him!

"Good girl," he cooed hoarsely at the van, as he tapped the steering wheel proudly with a big smile on his lips.

Murdock quickly put the van in neutral and hopped out again to stow the tools away in the back and then close the hood.  
As he turned around, he lost balance and grabbed the van for support. Taking a shuddering breath, Murdock squinted at the sun, the brightness of the light was hurting his eyes. He needed a moment to catch his breath and lowered his still throbbing head.  
Suddenly, his eyes fell on a dark shape on the ground just a few yards away from his feet. A wide grin appeared on Murdock's face as he bent forward and picked it up.

"Well, whaddayaknow! I missed you, old chap," he beamed as he flicked away a leaf from his trusty baseball cap and placed it on his head.

Wincing slightly as the rough material brushed over his painful head wound, he realized the instant effect of the rather pleasant shadow that the cap was now casting over his eyes. It seemed to relieve some of his headache. Slowly he made his way back to the driver seat.  
As he sat down, a new surge of dizziness swept over him.  
Feeling beat, Murdock leaned his head backward against the head rest and closed his eyes until the feeling faded.

"Urgh, I don't have time for this," he told Billy, who quietly sat next to him while staring at him intently, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

This wasn't good. He wasn't actually fit to drive, but was there any other option?  
He didn't think there was, unless Billy thought he could take over for a while?  
Murdock opened one weary eye and sneaked a peek at his dog, who abruptly rolled over and played dead.  
Nope, he didn't think so.  
And apparently, neither did Billy...

Murdock took one more deep breath and exhaled slowly as he opened both eyes again and started to gather his courage.  
With renewed determination, he put the van into gear and started following the muddy trail that the crooks had so conveniently left behind.  
It was time to go back to the real world and leave this scary forest and his lost memories behind!  
He had to save the Big Guy and he had this funny feeling he would find his friend at the Silver Creek Museum.  
He hoped his hunch was right.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9 - Should I stay or should I go

Heyyy everyone,  
WOW, thanks SO much for all the reviews on my previous chapter. I was reading them and felt so thankful.  
And also; thanks for your patience.  
After I returned from my vacation, it was a bit of a mayhem at work and I needed to do some serious catching up to get back on track. It took me a while to get into the mood to write this chapter, but I hope you will enjoy it.  
A bit more Face & Hannibal for you this time.

* * *

Chapter 9 - Should I stay, or should I go?

 _A few hours earlier..._

It was past midnight.  
The road ahead was calm, only illuminated by the occasional street light and the tail lights of their fellow vehicles passing by.  
Around this time of night, they were mostly accompanied by trucks.  
Hannibal and Face had become quiet.  
The older man was deep in thoughts while chewing on the end of his already finished cigar while Face was still behind the wheel, refusing to rest and let Hannibal take over for a while.  
The bad guys had been trying to contact them via the car radio again but Hannibal had decided not to answer this time.  
They had the information they needed and he was afraid that Don might've figured out something was off by now.  
If that was the case, he expected that this SOAB would use B.A and (hopefully) Murdock as a leverage to lure both him and Face in his trap as well.  
Hannibal clenched his fists as he peered out of the car windows.

"And **_that_** wasn't going to happen," Hannibal thought angrily.

They'd dared to put their filthy hands on his boys, and they weren't going to get away with it _that_ easy.  
This time, the colonel was going to operate on _his own_ terms.  
So, while they still had the chance, it was better to keep that crook in the dark for a little longer.  
Hannibal looked at his teammate. Even though the conman had managed to keep up his calm appearances, the colonel could tell that the man's brain was wired on a mixture of emotions. Worry and anger were clearly amongst them. It was the way his jaw twitched that gave it away.  
The colonel had argued to take over the wheel for a while, but Face still didn't want to budge.

"It'll only cost us valuable time," was his argument, "And besides ... you need to come up with a plan, Hannibal."

Hannibal had agreed to that and he'd started plotting even though they only had few straws to cling on to. It had been an hour ago since they'd spoken a word, and it had given him plenty of time to go over every thinkable scenario.  
The older man gingerly stretched his stiff arms and legs. The worries and scheming had exhausted him, and his stiff body longed for a break.  
When he looked sideways at his friend, he realized that the long drive had finally started to take its toll on the stubborn conman as well.  
He noticed the strained features and the slightly drooping eyes of his companion, and after outweighing the consequences, he'd made a rather difficult decision.  
There were two versions of his plan. One of them meant they would simply move on, find Silver Creek, and blunder themselves into the camp of the enemy through the front gate. The other one meant rest and food and a more careful and clever approach. And he was going for the latter.  
They would stop to get some rest and recharge prior to saving the boys.

He already knew that Face wasn't going to like it. But the both of them were of no use if they weren't fit and focused when facing their enemy. And Hannibal had a feeling they needed to be as sharp and perceptive as possible. Furthermore, they couldn't go wandering around with those two sleeping thugs on the backseat of their car.  
Initially, they were going to wake up and cause hammock.

Hannibal glanced at the two softly snoring men on the back seat and checked his watch. For now, they still seemed to be fast asleep which was a relief. According to the dose they'd administered, he expected them to sleep for at least two more hours.  
As he faced the road again, he spotted a sign for a motel that was situated a couple of miles further down the road. It was time to act. The colonel patted his friend on the shoulder.

"Face, take the next exit. We're going to stretch our legs for a bit..,"

Face's body tensed as he noticed the motel sign and sideglanced at his commander with a suspicious look on his features.

"I'd rather not, Hannibal," Face said hesitantly. "I'd like to make some more headway befo ..."

"If I need to make this an order, I will, lieutenant," Hannibal interrupted him with an authority in his voice that made Face flinch.

"Fine!" Face sighed reluctantly while rolling his eyes.

"Great...," Hannibal said as he put the stump of his cigar in the car's ashtray and searched his pockets for a fresh one.

As on cue, and with one hand still on the wheel, Face sighed again, produced a fresh cigar from his jacket pocket and handed it to the beaming colonel.

"Thanks, Face" He said with a smile.

Face didn't respond and looked firmly at the road ahead again while using his turn signal to indicate their exit.  
Hannibal bit off the butt of the cigar and spit it out in his gloved hand. He considered the conman for a brief moment before continuing: "I guess it's time to let you know the plan..."

Face gave the colonel a cautious glance. He was sure that he wasn't going to like it.

* * *

And Face was right.  
Minutes later, and with a grim face, he'd pulled into the parking lot of a rather shabby looking motel. After a quick stop at the front desk, Face had made his acquaintance with a rather indifferent middle-aged reception lady and obtained them the keys to one of the more scruffy looking rooms.  
After a quick inspection of the room, Face walked back to the dark parking lot where Hannibal was waiting

With a miserable sigh, the handsome man ruffled a nervous hand through his hair and glanced around. The area seemed deserted and, except for the sounds of the nearby highway, all was quiet. It was cloudy and it looked like it had rained only recently. The cool breeze of the wind on his forehead did him good as he realized how tired and worried he felt. But it wasn't all that bothered him. He had a guilty feeling gnawing in the pit of his stomach as he kept thinking of his teammates, wondering what happened to them. Was B.A hurt? Did they shot Murdock? Was Murdock dead?  
No! There was a stubbornness inside of him that didn't want to believe it was true. And he couldn't afford to think like that right now anyway. Panic wouldn't do either of them any good.  
It was like Hannibal had said: "He is only dead until we've seen a body, Face."

Not for the first time that day, Face mentally kicked himself. Why hadn't he believed Murdock in the first place? He should've seen the signs, and he should've known that his friend _wasn't_ pulling a random act of insanity this time. After all these years, he simply should've recognized the genuine fear in the pilot's eyes... shouldn't he?  
But he hadn't, and he blamed himself for missing it. He had been too pre-occupied with helping Hannibal at the set to make a few extra bucks. But what good did that do to him now?  
Face furiously kicked at a pebble and watched it skidding over the asphalt of the parking lot with gloomy eyes.  
He didn't want to stop here at this crappy motel. He wanted, no, _needed_ , to hunt down those assholes and find his friends! They needed his help. Hannibal was wrong, they needed to leave! _Now_!

Hannibal, who'd been leaning with his back against the car, looked up at the sounds of moving gravel and saw the conman approaching. He frowned, noticing the man's clear frustration with every step he took.

"I'm real sorry about this kid, but I think it's the best we can do for now," He thought silently.

Face handed Hannibal one of the keys without a word.

"Thanks," Hannibal said firmly as he pocketed the key and opened one of the back doors of the car.

"What's next?" Face said with a clear hint of suppressed anger in his voice.

Even though his features were dark and shaded in the pale light of the street lights, Hannibal could tell he was trying hard to control his emotions.

"Right now, I'm getting these baboons inside while you distract that lady at the reception and ask her where to find the Silver Creek Mill," Hannibal explained.

Face nodded while giving his commander a cold glare and turned on his heels. But before he could leave, Hannibal lay a firm hand on his shoulder and turned him around again.

"Face, I know this is a lot of me to ask, but I need you to keep your head clear and your emotions at bay for now. Do you understand?" He said calmly.

Face gazed at him in surprise.

"It wouldn't do the boys any good if we show up unprepared and on the verge of exhaustion. We can't afford to make any mistakes." Hannibal went on.

He gave his teammate a penetrating stare, hoping that his words would reach the conman.  
Face had felt very annoyed when Hannibal had stopped him. But the moment he turned around and looked into his commander's eyes, he could see a deep concern hidden there, and his racing mind seemed to calm down a bit. The colonel needed him to keep his head together. They both did.  
 _Of course_ , he wasn't the only one being frustrated and terrified about their current predicament. Hannibal must be worried sick as well, but as their commander, it was his task to make the decisions, even if they were hard ones to take.  
Suddenly, the conman felt a little bit embarrassed about his behavior.  
Not knowing what to say, he simply nodded and gave his commander an understanding squeeze on the shoulder before turning around.  
On his way back to the front desk he mustered all his willpower to keep his face calm and pleasant. Though, inside of him, his emotions were still fighting a fierce battle. But this wasn't the moment to give in to his feelings and frustrations.  
Right now, he had an important job to do.

Hannibal stared after the conman for a while with a worried expression on his face. He hoped Face could keep it together.  
Then he shrugged.  
There was nothing he could do about that now.

Hannibal ducked into the car to unbuckle and drag out one of the sleeping men. Hannibal hoisted the guy onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry and stealthily made his way to the motel room. The colonel made sure to stay hidden in the shadows whenever he could.  
Slightly out of breath, he reached the motel room and searched his pockets for the key. As he opened the crooked door, it gave a rather loud squeaking sound that made Hannibal clench his teeth. Alarmed, he looked sideways down the passageway. Nobody seemed to have noticed. Good... He entered the room in a hurry.  
With a low groan, he threw the sleeping man onto the bed. The man grunted a bit in his slumber but remained unconscious.

So far, so good. One more to go.

Hannibal was glad that there hadn't been any people wandering about at this time of night.

* * *

A little bell sounded as Face entered the reception booth.  
It was a gloomy place with stained walls. The room looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ages, and the faded green floral wallpaper was peeling off at the edges. A low yellow light illuminated the person behind the desk, giving her an air of neglect as well.

Ada, a middle-aged plump lady with slightly askew cat-eye Glasses and greying bushy hair, looked up from her magazine with a bored look on her face. She was feeling a bit annoyed to be interrupted for the second time that night as she was attempting to solve a crossword puzzle in the hopes of winning a brand new hand mixer for her kitchen. This time, she would claim the prize. She was sure of it!  
Face could already see that the lady was going to need some warming up before answering his questions.

"Somethin' wrong with the room, dear?" Ada asked with a lazy drawl in her voice while raising a heavily penciled eyebrow.

"No, no, it's fine," Face assured her quickly while sending her one of his dazzling smiles.

"Great... ," Ada said flatly. And without further ado, she concentrated on her puzzle again.

Face looked at her, rather taken aback.  
Usually, his smile would've engaged the lady without breaking a sweat, but all he got now was a cold shoulder.

"I guess I must look as worn-out as I feel right now," he thought while wondering if he'd used up all his charm for the day.

But instead of feeling discouraged by her rude behavior, Face felt an unexpected wave of determination rushing over him and gladly accepted the challenge.  
The lady was frowning while tapping impatiently on one of the crossword's clues with her pen. What was the right answer to 'proposed as a candidate'? It was at the tip of her tongue, but she 'just' couldn't grasp the word. Ada let out a frustrated sigh as she sipped her coffee from a lipstick-stained mug.  
Face looked down at the magazine while trying to read it upside down. He smiled at himself, seeing an opportunity to engage the lady once more.

"It's _nominated_ ," he said.

Ada looked up in surprise. Being so indulged in her crossword, she'd completely forgotten about the man and looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

"What?" she said, sounding a little unnerved.

"The answer is ' _nominated_ '," Face said again, tapping the magazine with his index finger and treating her to a warm smile.

Ada looked down again and saw that the man was right. The word fitted perfectly which made answering the other clues a breather.

"Gee, th'nks," Ada muttered while quickly scribbling down the letters into the right boxes like it was a matter of life and death. She was going to win that hand mixer for sure now!

But before she could engage herself into the puzzle completely, Face cleared his throat. The lady looked up at the man, wondering why he was still there.

"Can I help you?" She said while pushing up her red-rimmed glasses that had slid down the bridge of her nose.

"Well, now you mention it," Face beamed. "I wonder what you know about the Silver Creek Mill,"

A puzzled frown appeared on Ada's face as she gave it some deep thoughts.

"It sounds familiar... but I am not a local. I only moved here a couple of months ago..." she said after what seemed like ages.

Face's heart sank in his shoes. Great! Besides rude, she appeared to be useless too! Just his luck.  
Damn, he'd hoped to get some crucial information from the woman. _Now_ they had to stop somewhere else to ask around. That would cost them more precious time. Time they didn't have!

Seeing Face's disappointment, Ada quickly added. "No worries. Lemme look it up for you, hun..."

She turned around in her chair, reached out and grabbed a moldy looking flyer from a rack of discolored brochures that was mounted to the wall.  
The leaflets looked like they had been gathering dust for some time.

"I remember that the town called Silver Creek isn't very far from here. But it's a ghost town as far as I know. Nobody goes there... and I've never heard of any mill around there either, but who knows..."

Ada opened the flyer to the last page and handed it to Face.

"Here is a little map that shows you where you can find Silver Creek. I'm afraid that's all I can do for you, sweetcheeks."

Face took the flyer from the woman and looked at the map.

The roadmap that they'd used in the car didn't even seem to mention Silver Creek. And the fact that it was a ghost town might've gotten something to do with that. These weren't clear directions to the Silver Creek Mill, but it was better than nothing. At least they knew how to find the town, and finding the mill would hopefully not be too complicated going from there...

* * *

Bert's mind stirred in his deep slumber. It was very dark and quiet around him. The comfortable humming sound of the car's engine he'd been listening to for a while had stopped. Why had it stopped?  
Slowly, Bert's eyes fluttered open.  
His thoughts were slow and hazy, and if the steady pounding in his temples was any indication, he was in for a smashing headache. Moaning slightly, he tried to take up his surroundings. He was sitting in the back seat of his own slightly shabby car. His hands were bound and, for reasons unknown to him, he had a blanket over his knees.  
One thing was sure; He was all alone and most importantly of all; unattended.  
He tried to remember what the hell had happened to him. Then it all came back in a hurry...  
The colonel and his lieutenant had been interrogating him, and then drugged him, together with his colleague. But he had no clue what had happened after that.  
And the fact that he was alone was unnerving. What had they done to Ernest?  
Bert was glad to discover that his feet weren't bound. He needed to get out of here, but not without a weapon.  
The crook looked around. He always had an extra weapon in the car for emergencies, and it happened to be hidden under the back seat, right under his derriere.  
Moving his body to the side of the door, Bert managed to wiggle the gun from under the seat. The action alone made him sweat. He was still feeling rather drowsy but his life depended on it. He had to get out of this freaking car, and fast!

Just as his bound hands gripped the handle of the door, he heard the soft but unmistakable sounds of footsteps. Bert paused and looked out of the window to see one of the men approach. The pale moonlight reflected the silvery white hair of the man, and Bert knew it had to be Smith  
Wondering if he was making the right decision, Bert chose to pretend he was still knocked out and quickly put his hands holding the gun under the blanket on his knees.

As Hannibal approached the car, he thought he'd seen something move inside. It might have been a trick of the light, but just in case, he reached for his handgun before opening the door and reaching inside...

It all happened very quickly.

As Hannibal looked inside, Bert raised his weapon from under the blanket and, without a warning, fired it at the older man.  
The colonel, who'd been expected something to happen, was only just in time to duck away before the gun went off. He smashed his head into the doorframe of the car as he felt a small woosh of wind ruffle his hair.  
That was a very close call!  
White dots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to regain balance. Grasping the car door for support, he aimed his own gun at the man. But he was already too late.  
Bert, who didn't want to take any more chances, had managed to open the door at his side and stumbled out of the vehicle.  
Landing hard on the asphalt, he scrambled back to his feet and made a run for it. But Hannibal had recovered quickly and immediately took pursuit. He sped after the running man and leaped onto his legs. With a quick movement, he managed to tackle his hostage to the floor.  
Bert, who couldn't use his hands to reduce the impact of his fall, hit his head hard on the asphalt and finally lay motionless on the ground.  
Hannibal was panting hard as he checked Bert's pulse and noted that the man had only lost consciousness.

"Bad luck, pal," he puffed while staring daggers at the limp form in front of him.

Wasting no more time, Hannibal lifted the man onto his shoulders and hoped that nobody had heard the gunshot as he made his way back to the motel as fast as he could.

* * *

Face thanked Ada for her help and was about to leave the reception when he heard the gunshot.  
The conman froze on the spot with his hand on the door handle and his eyes widened. Ada looked up in bewilderment.

"What was that?" she asked

Face turned around, his features showing a calm mask. A charming and slightly embarrassed smile was playing on his lips.

"Oh, that's probably my friend's car." He laughed apologetically.

"It's such an old banger. The exhaust pipe keeps backfiring at will. It makes for such a hassle sometimes. I keep telling him to buy a new car, but will he hear about it? Nooo. But you know what? I'll tell him to keep it down so not to disturb the other guests."

At this, Ada nodded contently and wished him a good night before bending over her magazine again.

The moment Face closed the reception door behind him, he didn't know how fast he could find his way back to the motel room. Was Hannibal in trouble?  
As he barged into the room with the spare key, he noticed that only one of the captured men was laying on the bed. It seemed he was still asleep. But where was Hannibal?  
Face quickly tied the man's feet together, just in case, and then ran out of the room, making his way to the parking lot.  
The moment he saw Hannibal approaching, carrying one of the goons over his shoulder, he gasped for air and felt a huge wave of relief washing over him.  
He quickly joined his commander, and together they made their way to the rented room and finally closed the door behind them.  
To their relief, they hadn't been noticed by any prying eyes. Face started to wonder if there were any guests at all at this awful place. Or maybe they just didn't care.

As Hannibal lowered the unconscious Bert onto the bed next to his sleeping colleague, the colonel let out a small moan.  
Gosh, was that man heavy!  
Straightening his aching back, he gingerly rubbed the growing bump on the side of his head.  
Glancing over at the unconscious figure on the bed, he couldn't help grinning as he observed a similar lump on his opponent's head as well. A faint notion of the jazz rushed through his veins.

"Serves you right," he muttered.

"What happened?" Face demanded while looking at Hannibal with more than a worried expression on his handsome features. His calm mask had completely disappeared now and he stared at his commander in concern.

"Well... in a nutshell: This fella woke up a bit too early, tried to escape, managed to run and, unfortunately for him, wasn't fast enough," Hannibal said dismissively.

"I guess it's time to give them some more of that sleeping juice, so we are sure to get some rest ourselves tonight. Did you remember to bring the kit with you?"

Face nodded, reached for the duffel bag he'd brought along from the car and produced a dark brown bottle and two individually wrapped syringes.

"Do you think it's wise to hit them with another dose, Hannibal?" Face said, unwrapping the syringes and filling them with the clear liquid.

Hannibal shrugged. If there was something he didn't feel worried about right now, it was feeling sorry for the thugs laying on the bed.  
He looked up at Face with an unforgiving glint in his eyes.

"If it isn't, they should've chosen a less risky profession, don't ya think?" He said mockingly. "Danger and risk all come with the job description,"

"In that case, I sure hope they've read the small print..," Face remarked dryly as he handed Hannibal a filled syringe.

"Because I bet they will wake up with a terrible migraine after this ride..."

"Not my problem," Hannibal mumbled as he administered the drug. He had kept his anger at bay for the time being, and he wouldn't kill the men. But he didn't feel sorry in any way.

He and Face were going to try and get some well-deserved rest before the next part of his plan would play itself out.

The men found something to eat from a vending machine and refreshed themselves in the bathroom.  
Then they dragged the two unconscious men into the bathroom, secured them and closed the door, barricading it with a chair. There was no window in the small space, and the only way out was the door. In case one of the two goons would wake up during the night and tried to break out, both Hannibal and Face would know it in time.  
As the weary men both lay to rest on the shared bed, Hannibal hoped he'd made the right decision. They were close to the Silver Creek town, and they would be on their way in a few hours. But they needed to recharge before doing anything rash.  
He so hoped they wouldn't be too late...  
And with that thought lingering in the back of his mind, he dozed off into a fitful sleep

* * *

 _A couple of hours later / but early in the morning:_

*CRASHcreaaaaaak*

" _Holy hole in a donut!_ " Murdock cried out while turning the wheel with a jerk and careening off the dirt road.

He hit the brakes hard and bounced forward over the steering wheel.

"Owww," Murdock shook his head in a daze.

He hadn't even hit civilization yet and already caused trouble.  
A little shaken, Murdock got out of the van to check the damage.  
As he crouched down, he ran a slim finger over the dent and the long scratch that had appeared on the black metallic surface.  
Looking sideways, he could see the pole of wood he hadn't been able to dodge properly, sticking out of the ground at a weird angle. Maybe it had been some old roadside post or perhaps even a broken road sign? ... whatever.  
Did it matter, really? B.A was going to kill him anyway if he found out.

"I'm so sorry, girly" Murdock mumbled while patting the van soothingly.

"Just a lick of paint and you'll be all new an' shiny, I promise."

Still feeling dizzy, Murdock leaned his head briefly against the van before getting up. He felt so slow.

"I'll be back in a... ehmm...," he said while trailing off.

He momentarily wavered in place.  
Murdock squinted his eyes while tracing the abandoned road in front of him. He rubbed his eyes hard, unsuccessfully trying to get rid of his spell of double vision, and wondered how his big bejeweled friend was doing right now.  
Checking the area, he noticed that he'd left the forest behind, and all he saw right now was a big sandy landscape thick with underbrush and an occasional birch tree that was casting long shadows in the orange light of the climbing sun. The area seemed uninhabited. The winding sand road was leading him to the highway which he could already see in the -not so far- distance. If he looked carefully, he could make out the metal of the tiny cars flickering in the early morning light.  
That's where he had to go.  
Murdock slowly made his way back to the driver's seat and sat down with a heavy sigh. He wanted to be faster, but it was hard.

"Jiffy!", he suddenly said hoarsely as if he just hadn't stopped talking mid-sentence a minute ago. His throat felt dry.

Murdock leaned back in his seat with half-closed eyes and bit his bottom lip.  
It seemed to him that driving with double vision and a headache was rather troublesome. He knew he had to hurry, but his mind felt so sluggish.  
And how on earth was he going to find that museum if he couldn't even keep the van straight?  
He couldn't afford to cause any collisions on the highway. B.A was _so_ gonna kill him dead if he caused the van any more damage. He was sure of it!  
Murdock puffed his cheeks in despair and rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed painfully, but he tried to ignore it.  
There were more important issues to deal with right now.  
He looked around the van and noticed a paper grocery bag that was half-hidden under one of the back seats.  
A flash of a memory came back to him and he remembered buying some food and water together with B.A only a couple of hours ago. Or had it been longer? The injured man couldn't say for sure.  
He also vaguely remembered something else. He had been scared of something... Did they try to shoot at him? Something about a dart in a bottle of water...  
A shiver ran through his body. He could only remember vague sensations of fear and dread.  
But did it really matter right now?  
Murdock shrugged off the unnerving feelings and reached out for the bag. His memories could wait for later.  
As he emptied the contents of the bag on his lap, he realized _how_ thirsty he was. He could easily drink a whole lake (fish or no fish) if he had the chance.  
Instead, he found some bottles of spring water and even a couple of candy bars.  
A grateful smile appeared on his pale clammy face.  
This would do nicely for now.  
Murdock opened one of the bottles with trembling hands and greedily took a long swig.  
Water ran all over his chin but he couldn't care less. He wanted to gulp it all down in one go, but just in time, his stomach gave a warning rumble, and it prevented him from drinking more.  
Gosh, but it sure felt good!  
Reluctantly, Murdock closed the bottle and put it away. He peeked hesitantly at the candy bars, unwrapped one and took a small bite.  
Again, his stomach cramped, and he put the bar away like it was a grenade ready to explode.

"Nope, let's not go there yet," he mumbled to himself.

The crazy man didn't feel much for puking again.  
It was better to wait a little longer until he was a 100% sure he could eat the food and hold it down. A sandwich might be a better idea though, but beggars can't be choosers.  
And the water had done him good. His head felt a bit clearer, and he was ready to roll.  
Murdock risked another swig of the water, put the bottle in the cup holder, closed the door of the van and started the engine.

"Okay Howling Mad, Let's try this again shall we? But this time without hitting innocent roadway posts, okay?" He told himself sternly.

His eyes focused on the road ahead, and to his great relief, he noticed that the two roads in front of him were slowly turning into one road again.  
Just the way he liked it.  
Without further ado, Murdock wheeled the van back onto the road and was on his way again.

* * *

TBC


	10. Chapter 10 - Life Saver

Ahh! I always LOVE posting a new chapter. It sort of gives me a rather accomplished feeling (and I guess I need that from time to time). And this time you didn't have to wait a whole month for an update.  
I enjoyed writing this chapter, but am looking forward to writing the next one because: Action time!  
Thanks, as always (broken record, I know) for the new reviews. I love each and every one of them as they are a little highlight to my day when I receive them.  
Please enjoy this new chapter:

* * *

Chapter 10: Life Saver

B.A's breath hitched as he woke up from a restless slumber. He had been dozing off and on during the night, even though he'd tried his best to stay awake and stay focused. But it was getting harder and harder.  
Opening his eyes slowly, he tried to concentrate on his dim-lit surroundings. For a moment he felt confused.  
But then the recent events came back to him like a frightful nightmare, and an ice-cold shudder ran down his spine.

"They killed the fool... They're gonna pay!" was a thought that kept repeating in the back of his mind.

The muggy room they were holding him captive in had the looks of a disused cellar. It was dirty and coated with a thick greasy layer of dust. Besides some shelving units, there was no other furniture in the room. Not even a chair to sit on. Just some empty, moldy cardboard boxes in a corner, and a lot of cobwebs.  
A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling and was sending some pale light into the thick darkness, making the room look rather gloomy.  
B.A had managed to gather some of the boxes and flatten them so he didn't have to sit on the stone cold floor. But it didn't help much. The shivers that raked his body kept coming.

The big guy had settled himself on the floor in the darkest corner of the room. He was leaning heavily with his back and left shoulder against the two adjoining walls to help him sit up straight. Laying down was showing weakness, and B.A didn't plan to show those crooks any sign of weakness if he could help it.  
But he was allowed to lean, and he rested a weary head against the cool stones while his dark brewing eyes stared into nothingness. Pearls of sweat dripped from his cheeks and beard.  
Though you wouldn't tell from his calm demeanor, B.A was in a lot of pain.  
The bad guys had really done a number on him this time.  
The injury of his shoulder was okay. The bullet had only grazed him and it had bled enough to disinfect on its own.  
Luckily for him, he'd been wearing a sleeveless shirt that day.  
His leg, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The violent throbbing of his thigh told him as much.  
Observing the swelling of the stab wound, B.A already knew an infection had started to spread.  
The fabric of his light blue dungarees was spanning uncomfortably around his swollen and stiff thigh. He'd already torn open the trouser leg to allow for some space, but he knew he needed immediate treatment. At least the wound had stopped bleeding after he'd clumsily applied a tourniquet from a handkerchief with his still bound hands. The skin of his wrists felt raw due to the sharp tie wraps the crooks had used on him.  
But it all didn't matter much to him.  
B.A felt eerily empty inside. Like something had died from deep within him. He'd just witnessed the violent death of his best friend, and something had simply snapped.  
The only emotion he seemed to feel right now was _rage_. Pure and all-consuming rage, and it was building up to a cooking point.  
He wanted revenge on the man who'd killed the fool. There had been no warning. No nothing!  
Just a simple bullet, a pull of the trigger, and BAM, it was all over.  
B.A could still picture the empty expression on the fool's face.  
' _Murdock's_ ' face, he corrected himself.

B.A wasn't a person to cry. He'd stopped doing that decades ago.  
After the death of his father when he was still a young boy, life had become tough, and there had simply been no place for crying in that world. Instead, he directed all his pain and remaining emotions into anger.  
Right now, he was savoring it for the moment he would take revenge on the killer. The second he got an opening to do so, he would strike... and he would strike hard.

Suddenly there was a sound of footsteps in the hallway. B.A blinked and pricked up his ears while slowly moving his feverish eyes toward the door. He had no idea how long he'd been spending in his cell and wondered if it had become morning already. When they'd thrown him into the room, they'd left him alone for what felt like hours. Without water, or food, and no indication whatsoever to know how much time had passed.

A bolt was released, and the old wooden door creaked open revealing the person B.A wanted to see least of all. Or perhaps... most of all...  
He felt his blood boil at the sight of the sneering man who entered the room and observed him with obvious amusement on his face.

Don had taken off his parka and hat, and was entering the room wearing a simple leather jacket. On his waist he carried his gun in a holster, his hand resting on the weapon in case B.A would try something. In his other hand, he held an arm-long metal rod.  
Behind him, staying in the door-opening, stood one of his accomplices, Lee, whom B.A recognized from their trip into the woods. He was carrying a tray in his hands.

B.A glared at both men. He was breathing laboriously, but other than that, staying quite still.  
Don observed the wounded man with a watchful eye. The black man sat slumped down against the wall, looking battered and ill. His dark skin had a greyish unhealthy shade to it, and there was a sheen of sweat visible on his face and arms. It was clear that he wasn't doing so well.

"Good," Don thought as he slowly approached his prisoner.

Baracus hardly moved his head, but his dark eyes followed Don viciously like a tiger watching his prey while waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. Don had seen the man's scowl before, but it had never held the menace that it seemed to be holding now. He wondered what the man would do if he wasn't bound and wounded like he was right now. Don chuckled coldly.  
The thought actually amused him.

"Not doing so fine, are we?" He mocked at B.A.

"Looks infected," He added while poking B.A's thigh with the rod.

B.A hissed in pain and instantly struggled to get back to his feet to launch at the man. But Don was faster.  
He swiftly took a step backward and pressed the rod into B.A's windpipe, effortlessly forcing the man down to the ground. All B.A could do was gasp for air and sulkily obey.  
Panting hard and fuming inside, he glared at the man and even growled! But Don didn't seem to be too impressed.  
Afterall, he had everything under control.

"There, there. You don't seem to be much without your friends now, do you?" He said tauntingly.

"But don't be afraid. It's for the better that I am removing them one by one from your life...like I did with that halfwit, whats-his-name-Murdock?.  
And let's face it, Baracus. Life will become so much easier without that idiot walking in your way, am I right?"

B.A, who hadn't said a word until that moment, couldn't hold his tongue anymore.

"You _killed_ him!" he shouted with so much venom in his voice that he didn't even recognize it himself.

"Technically...? ..yes!" Don admitted while meditating over B.A's words.

"But I guess it depends on the way you look at things, Mr. Baracus.  
All in all, I thought I was doing you a favor. "

B.A looked up at the man with a quizzical expression on his face.

" ** _You_** were the one telling the man to shut up after all," Don went on, now crouching down in front of B.A with the rod gripped firmly in his hands. He calmly examined B.A's face, who scowled back at him.

"So I shut him up for you...," Don added with a sly smile. " _For good!_ "

At this, B.A's eyes twitched ever so slightly. The big guy concentrated on keeping his face empty from any emotion that would show off as weak, but he knew he'd failed. He glared into the cold grey eyes for a moment, using all the anger he could muster and sending the man a wordless message that said; "You're gonna pay..."  
He didn't want to show the despicable man in front of him that he'd struck a nerve. But he definitely had.  
And Don had seen it...A wicked grin that didn't quite reach the man's eyes appeared on his thin face.

"Anyway... Let's patch you up a bit, shall we? We don't want you dead... yet..." Don said with a bored voice.

He stood up from his crouch and gestured to the other man to enter the room.

Lee walked forward with the tray that contained a small bottle of water, a wrapped sandwich and a roll of bandages. There wasn't any antiseptic. He placed the items on the floor next to B.A, sending him a cautious look, and left the room with the tray.

"You can eat and drink, and try and take care of that leg for now. "Don said.

"And cheer up, man! You won't be lonely for long. Your **_remaining_** friends will soon join you."

B.A ignored him and looked away.  
The way the man had put his emphasis on the word ' _remaining_ ', stung deeply. But B.A simply stared at the opposite wall while taking no more notice of the piece of shit in front of him.  
Don sneered and turned around on his heels, finally leaving B.A alone. He bolted the door at his way out.

Suddenly the big guy was alone again and a deep foreboding silence descended on him.

B.A uttered a shaky sigh. His eyes stung and he vaguely wondered if it had anything to do with the wrenching pain in his body or maybe... maybe something else. Even though he knew that the words coming out of the crook's mouth were poisonous, he couldn't help but wonder if some of it was true. Maybe B.A _'was'_ the reason his friend was dead. Maybe they would've let Murdock live if he hadn't been screaming at him to keep his mouth shut.

With these thoughts, he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. The water, sandwich and bandages lay untouched and forgotten on the floor.  
He couldn't care less...

* * *

*Bump-Crack!*

"ARGH!"

Murdock hit the breaks hard for the second time that morning.  
Clapping a weary hand over his eyes, he let out a low groan.

"I've crashed _Hueys_ better than this van..." he muttered as he realized he'd parked the van's bumper quite eagerly into a large square-shaped (and rather solid) concrete planter that was situated next to the parking spot he'd picked. Billy whined at him in sympathy while the green plants still shook on their stems.

"Can't be helped...," Murdock said apologetically while opening the van's door to get out.

It was still early in the morning. The sky was slowly changing from bright orange and pink into blue.  
Murdock looked around and noticed there was only one car on the parking lot of the somewhat shabby looking diner. He'd also noticed (to his own slight embarrassment) that there was only **_one_** planter on the whole parking lot, and he'd managed to hit it with flying colors.

Even though the place looked deserted, the lights in the building were on, and Murdock hoped that the place was open.  
His plan was rather weak and basic, but it sure was better than nothing. He would go in and ask directions to the Silver Creek Mill museum, desperately hoping that they would know of it, and most important of all: that it was close by!  
Time was pressing on him, and the driving and concentrating on the road had been quite exhausting. He didn't want to think what those crooks would do to his golden friend if they didn't even hesitate to shoot him down like a clay pigeon.  
After finding the freeway, it hadn't taken him long to spot a diner down the road called _B.B's Place_. Murdock had abruptly maneuvered his way down the exit lane, completely oblivious to the honking cars and shrieking tires around him.

It was time for action!  
The crazy man jumped out of the van, almost stumbled over an untied shoelace, ignored it, and finally headed for the entrance in a hurry.  
To his relief, he spotted the 'We are open' sign on the door-window when he stopped dead in track.  
Still with his hand on the door handle, he gazed at his own reflection in the dust-stained glass. He could see that his face and shirt were both covered with something dark. Was it blood?  
Obviously...  
Murdock had just enough sense to turn on his heels and hurry back to the van to clean himself up while muttering "shit, shit, shit!" under his breath.  
He forcefully opened the van's door, jumped down in the driver's seat with clear frustration on his face, and sneaked a peek into the rearview mirror...  
Confirmative! That was blood alright. He'd forgotten about that.  
The right side of his face was all covered with it. Streaks of dark red smeared part of his face, neck and his right ear. His hair was matted, and his clothes had dark stains.  
That might explain the occasional odd stares he got from fellow drivers on the road.  
Damn! He had no time for this! But he also couldn't just barge into the diner like this without drawing all kinds of attention that he didn't want. It was still too early for Halloween.

Feverishly scanning the van, he spotted the bottles of water and grabbed one. He stumbled to the back of the vehicle in the hopes of finding his duffel bag.  
Instead, he found a big shopping bag with an ugly flower print that looked somewhat familiar to him and opened it. It was a relief to see that it seemed to be his bag, as it contained fresh sets of clothes, a dress and wig that he couldn't place, his meds, and even some toiletries.

Murdock moved as quick as he could. With stiff arms, he slid the pilot's jacket from his shoulders.  
Even though it was harder to notice on the dark brown leather, it was clearly covered in blood, as well as his flannel shirt and t-shirt. Murdock huffed impatiently. He knew head wounds could bleed badly, but he thought he'd kinda over-exaggerated it a bit this time. Such a drama Queen...

Even his pants were a mess, though that was because of the mud. Murdock undressed hastily, fumbled his dirty t-shirt into a ball, soaked it with water from the bottle, and, while sitting on his knees behind the back seats, hurriedly tried to mop away the blood from his face, neck, and upper torso.  
Billy just sat there, staring at him with a curious expression on his face.

"You think it's gone?" Murdock asked his dog after thoroughly rubbing his head and neck and examining his now somewhat flushed face and red nose in the rearview mirror.

Billy barked and wagged his tail at him.

"I sure hope you're right," Murdock mumbled feebly. He hoped he'd cleaned up well enough because he very well didn't want to waste any more time on it. He'd made sure to avoid the throbbing head wound though. It had stopped bleeding, but for what he could see, it didn't look very good.

The crazy man clumsily changed into a clean dark-blue t-shirt and put on a fresh pair of khaki pants. He didn't bother to grab his flannel shirt nor his jacket at this point but decided to put his baseball cap back on since he hadn't been able to clean all the blood out of his hair. That would at least hide it slightly.  
Last but not least, he tied his shoelaces (very tight this time while thinking of B.A) and stood up with a deep sigh.  
He gave Billy a pat on the head and said:"Let's go!"  
Billy barked and followed him in pursuit.

Entering the diner, Murdock had to adjust his eyes to the light and blinked a couple of times. The place was dim-lit and looked deserted.  
A welcoming sign said, Welcome to B.B's Place - Try our B. B. Burger today."  
There didn't seem to be any folks around yet, and Murdock screened the place carefully.

"Hello?" He said hesitantly.

A very _very_ tall woman, roughly a couple of years older than Murdock, with strong arms, broad shoulders and a dark brown ponytail, emerged from behind the counter with a big cardboard box filled with cans of Campbell's soup.  
The name tag on her shirt read 'Betsy.' She had a kind face but looked like the kind of girl you wouldn't want to mess with. Murdock felt slightly intimidated by the woman who was clearly taller than he was and gulped.

"Can I help you?" The lady-giant inquired while examining the slightly gaunt-looking pilot.

Betsy looked Murdock up and down.  
The lean man who'd entered her diner this early in the morning had a disheveled look about him.  
His clothes were clean but untidy, his eyes didn't seem quite focused, and he stood there slightly swaying on his feet while cautiously rubbing his lanky arms as if he was feeling cold.  
For a minute, she thought he was going to drop to the floor, but just in time, he seemed to steady himself.  
She wondered what type of man would wear a t-shirt with the words 'Have you seen my marbles?' written on it.

"Probably another drunk with a hangover..." she thought airily while placing the box on the shiny wooden counter without looking away from the man in case he was up to something.  
However, she didn't worry too much. She'd dealt with drunk men before.

"T..The silver Creek Mill Museum.." Murdock stuttered, still feeling a bit flabbergasted. "Do you know the place? I need to get there fast. It's important"

Murdock shrank a little under the scrutiny of the woman and hoped she wasn't going to chase him out of the place without giving him any information.  
He sent her a sheepish smile, in the hopes of making the situation a little less awkward.  
Betsy however, looked at him with a curious glance on her face and raised an eyebrow. The man's words slurred a little.

"The Silver Creek museum? Why on earth would you want to go there?"

Murdock felt his patience falter slightly, and it took him some effort not to snap the words ' _None of your business!_ ' at the big woman. His head felt heavy and he started having trouble focusing again. _'Not now! Not now!"_

"Er.. Appointment.." he answered gruffly while rubbing his eyes. "Do you know how to get there?"

"There is no Museum in Silver Creek," Betsy said.

Murdock lowered his hand and looked up at her. He felt an ice cold dread entering his stomach. Desperation started to fill his mind.

"But t-there has to be..." he said with a voice that couldn't quite hide his sudden distress.

His head was throbbing violently now, and his surroundings slowly darkened around him. His legs started to tremble.

"I.. I really need to get there fast... It's important," he added.

Murdock felt a sudden wave of giddiness hit him.  
Just as his knees started to buckle, he could feel a pair of strong arms gripping him and pushing him hard-handedly onto a bar stool.

"Sit down," The lady said briskly while making sure Murdock was seated properly and wasn't going to drop to the floor instead.

Murdock blinked in surprise and managed to steady himself while holding on to the table top.

"You're quick as a bunny," he said with clear awe in his voice.

"And strong as a bear," Betsy said. "They don't call me Big Betsy for nothin' here,"

Betsy made her way behind the counter and poured him a glass of water.

"You okay?" She asked while roughly pushing the glass in his direction.

"Just tired," Murdock said dismissively while composing himself and willing away the spell of dizziness. Dark edges were intruding his field of vision, and he tried hard to fight them back.

With trembling fingers, he reached for the glass of water and took a grateful sip. Once more, the water did its work and helped him clearing his head a little. It also helped him calm down.  
Then he looked up at the woman, and smiled.

"Big Betsy, right? Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," Betsy said with a small twitch of the corner of her mouth.

"Call me B.B... Everybody else does,"

Murdock chuckled and took another sip.

"Almost sounds like my buddy, he's called B.A,"

At that, his eyes darkened, and the expression on his face hardened as if he remembered something bad.  
Betsy looked at him. She wasn't sure what to think of the man.  
While helping him on the bar stool, she'd seen the dark stains on the right side of his cap and what looked like smudges and small traces of blood behind the man's ear.  
She hadn't said anything and decided it was none of her business.

"He's just another drunk who'd gotten himself into a bar fight, that's all," she thought to herself.

Though, she was wondering why she didn't smell any alcohol on the man's breath.  
If there was one thing she'd learned while running her diner on her own; it was that you didn't ask questions, and you didn't meddle in someone else's business. During the years, she'd developed a certain insight into people, and she liked to think she was a good judge of character.  
However, her curiosity was triggered now, and she couldn't help herself.

"So Silver Creek Museum, huh?" she said, "It doesn't exist anymore, but I can show you how to find it..."

Murdock, who had looked rather sullen and beat, suddenly looked up at her in surprise. So it _did_ exist?

The look in his wide eyes was so intense and hopeful that Betsy had to look away.

"I used to go there often as a kid because my grandfather worked there," she continued while looking for a pen and a piece of paper.

Murdock's eyebrows lifted slightly as a happy grin spread on his face. Small world...

"Silver Creek ain't really a town anymore. Nobody actually lives there. Not even when the museum was still in business," Betsy went on. "But it ' _did'_ have a Silver mill..."

Murdock rose on his bar stool while listening intently and as quiet as a mouse.

"I have no clue why you'd want to go there though," Betsy added as she started scribbling lines on the paper.

"As far as I know, the place has been closed and boarded up over ten years ago. They say it went bankrupt or something."

Murdock followed the movements of her hand as Betsy started to draw a simple map for him.

"My granddad lost his job and I haven't been there in ages. But I still know how to find it. It's not even that far from here." Betsy went on. "I don't have a real map for you, but I think this will do."

She drew one last line, examined her scribbles, nodded approvingly and then pushed the paper over to Murdock who immediately started screening the paper.  
Then, without a warning, he jumped from his bar stool, hopped behind the counter and gave the startled Betsy a crushing hug before leaping to the diner's exit.

"Thanks, thanks, THANKS so much. You can't believe how... I mean. You're so kind! Thanks!" Murdock said while stumbling over his words and opening the door.

Without further ado, he sped out of the diner, muttering a "Come on, Billy" and was gone.

Betsy blinked a couple of times. Not sure what had just happened (and who the heck was Billy?)  
She was about to shrug it off and continue unpacking the box with Campbell's soup when she heard the tingle of the door again and saw Murdock's head peek around the corner.

"Before I forget. Did I mention you're a **_life safer_** _!?_ " he said hurriedly. "Or at least, I hope you are! Thanks, Gracias, Merci bien, Bye!"

Before Betsy could answer, Murdock's head had vanished again. The big woman walked towards the door and peeked through the window. She saw a big black van hurrying out of the parking lot and wondered for the second time what the hell had just happened.

Murdock sat behind the wheel, suddenly feeling energized. He'd already memorized the simple map and knew exactly where to go. A sudden rush of adrenaline had kicked in, and without realizing it, he was humming to the tunes of 'You are my sunshine' while entering the freeway.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11 - The game is afoot

Chapter 11 - The game is afoot

Sorry sorry sorry for the superlate update.  
I am currently swamped with new projects, and I guess I was experiencing a little writer's block at the same time.  
But I found my muse. And I guess I'm a bit of a dork too, because I bought myself a vintage Murdock doll! He's sitting on the edge of a planter, watching me as I write.  
Finally, here is the new chapter. And I already started working on the next one.  
As always, thanks so much for the reviews, and also for the new follows! You guys amaze me!

* * *

Chapter 11 - The game is afoot.

It was still quite early...  
The sound of traffic could be heard in the distance and Hannibal wondered how his two 'lost boys' were doing.

He knew B.A was captured and wounded, and Murdock was killed and, according to that crook Don, 'gotten rid of'. But Hannibal simply refused to believe it.  
He wouldn't and couldn't accept it until he saw the evidence with his own eyes. But at the same time he couldn't deny that a dark coldness had gripped firmly around his heart.  
What if it _was_ true? What if Murdock was killed?  
Did they really lose their friend that night?  
Hannibal's brow furrowed deeply at that thought as doubt started gnawing at him.  
What he didn't know was that Murdock had survived the execution.  
At that very same moment, the lanky pilot lay passed out in the van, being left alone in the birch tree forest. A forest that happened to be very close to the hotel they were currently staying.  
If only he knew...

Hannibal silently shifted his stiff body on the uncomfy mattress.  
The muggy motel room felt oppressing to the older commander of the A-team. The air-conditioning was making a rhythmic but monotone buzzing sound.  
The television was on but with the sounds turned off. It was currently broadcasting a rerun of the old Tom and Jerry cartoons that cast a ghostly shadowplay on the dim-lit walls.  
Hands folded beneath his head, Hannibal lay on his back on the only bed in the room. His eyes were open and his gaze was unblinkingly fixed at the ceiling.  
Next to him, Face lay on his side, half covered under the blankets and with his back towards the colonel. He was asleep, but it seemed his dreams weren't overly pleasant. The conman kept tossing and turning every couple of minutes while mumbling unintelligible words in his sleep.

Hannibal sighed.  
He himself had only managed to get some shut-eye for a short couple of hours.  
It hadn't been much, but it was just enough to recharge him.  
He lay mulling over his plan, trying to go over every single detail that could go wrong.  
Like always, his plan was a bit of a gamble.  
Usually, it would have sent him straight into jazz heaven, as Murdock liked to call it. But right now, he didn't feel anything close to the jazz.  
His intel was limited and the stakes were rather high this time.  
But did it matter really? They didn't have much of a choice anyway.  
Hannibal peeked at the television screen where Tom just opened a door to chase after Jerry, who was waiting for him with a hammer to (quite literally) knock the cat's toes into pancakes.  
Hannibal couldn't help but see a resemblance to their current predicament. It seemed that he and his team members had been caught in a wicked cat-and-mouse-game themselves.  
The colonel chuckled silently as he envisioned his enemy as the big grey cat. He sincerely hoped he could be as shrewd as that bad-ass mouse today, though hopefully with a bit more finesse. Pancake-toes would not do.

An hour later, while glancing at the luminescent hands of the alarm clock on the bedside table, Hannibal decided he was finally allowed to get up.  
Time for action!  
He quickly dressed in his usual gear, removed the chair from the bathroom door and sneaked a peek into the bathroom to find both bad guys still fast asleep. One occupied the dirty, smudged bathtub, while the other one lay on the floor, next to the sink. Both thugs were bound and blissfully unaware of their current circumstances. Lucky fellas...

As Hannibal turned around to wake up the lieutenant, he almost jumped out of his skin.  
Face stood right behind him with untidy hair and rubbing his eyes groggily.

"Time to get up?" he asked with a sleepy voice.

"Yes," Hannibal nodded, "I'm going back to the car to make contact. You get dressed and prepare the room for our _warm_ welcome."

"Right..."

Face sighed but nodded in agreement.  
Hannibal reached out for the lieutenant's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"It will be alright, Face," he said before leaving the room.

A few minutes later, Hannibal entered the 'acquainted' car of the two thugs and sat down in the driver's seat. For a moment, he allowed himself to sit there and gather his thoughts. He gazed with unseeing eyes at the pink sky where the early sun was steadily rising, and tried to estimate what condition he would find the other half of his team in. It would make an important difference to the methods of their escape. He had at least three different scenarios in mind.  
Anger flared through his whole body as he furiously grabbed the car phone and, without realizing it, squeezed it hard in his tightened grip.  
He wondered what he would do to that bastard Don if he could lay his hands on him. He was sure it wouldn't be pretty.  
Hannibal exhaled slowly as he told himself to stay calm.  
With mere determination, he forced his anger to the back of his mind while mentally preparing himself for his next move.  
He pulled a piece of paper with a phone number from his jacket pocket, checked it, and started dialing.  
He was glad he forced the number out of Bert during their interrogation in L.A. It proved to be very useful indeed.  
The colonel only hoped that it wasn't too early to make this phone call as he didn't want to raise any suspicions.  
Fortunately, it didn't seem to be a problem.  
Apparently, villains got up early too...  
Don picked up, sounding as alert and sharp as someone who had been awake for some time.  
Hannibal drew a breath, changed his voice, and began his con, hoping with all his heart that the ugly sleazeball would fall for it.

* * *

Don hung up the phone, fingering his goatee with a contemplative frown on his face.  
He'd been _beyond_ irritated that team Beta hadn't checked in _all_ night. He'd tried contacting them, but to his frustration, he hadn't been able to reach them.  
It had kept him up all night.  
Earlier, Don had set up a very strict roster for all of his teams to contact him at various times during the day. His henchmen knew there weren't any exceptions or they would have to face the wrath of their chief. Don had made sure they all feared him. He'd shown them what he was capable of.  
Don smirked wickedly as he remembered cutting off an ear from one of his henchmen to make his point. The effect of his actions on his men had been... interesting.  
They'd feared him.  
So the fact that Team Beta had neglected to contact him, initially set off all Don's alarm bells.  
However, there had been relief when his phone finally rang.  
The connection had been bad, or so it seemed. There was a lot of static, and it had been hard to hear his henchmen's voice properly.  
It had been Bert who'd called and finally checked in for an update about their targets Smith and Peck. The guy had asked for assistance to escort them and their targets to their hideout place.  
Apparently, Bert and Ernest had been facing some difficulties capturing the two A-team members but managed to overpower and restrain them in the end. According to Bert, the car was wrecked which left the car phone dysfunctional. They'd found a motel and a pay phone to call Don, and they needed a lift.  
After noting the address of the motel, which, fortunately, was only a few miles away from their hideout, Don grinded his teeth in pure irritation.  
Of all days, _**today**_ his boss would be paying them a visit. And Don knew that the man was expecting to see results.  
It was ' _very_ important' to deliver today!

With his thin hand still resting on the phone, Don pondered about Bert's story. His pale eyes looked around the room as if searching for something he missed.  
The story had sounded legit enough, but why was he still feeling suspicious?

"On the other hand," Don shrugged, "It ' _was_ ' part of his nature to be leery."

He decided not to waste any more time and find his men. He was going to send out Chester and Frank to pick up team Beta and their captives.  
Don himself would stay behind with Hunter and Lee to guard the place. Two people would be enough as he didn't expect any trouble from the injured Baracus.  
The last time he checked, the man had seemed in a rather bad state.  
Soon, Peck and Smith would be joining him, and the team would be complete.  
If his men made haste, they would be back just in time to present the A-team on a silver plate to his boss.  
 _Finally_ , the end of their lengthy enterprise was in sight. All those weeks of hard work would be paying off soon.  
Don smiled greedily at this very thought and left the room.

* * *

Besides the call of the early morning birds and buzzing insects; all seemed quiet around the grounds of the old Silver Creek Mill Museum.  
A bunch of yellow-flowered rabbitbrushes rustled ever so slightly as a lonely figure inched his way forward over the dusty ground.  
The low shrubbery over the open area forced him to stay low and out of sight while getting closer to the buildings that were situated at the bottom of a small sloping hill. Behind them lay the remains of a dried-up creek.  
Pausing to take a breather, Murdock squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to check the perimeter. All seemed clear for the moment.

Twelve minutes earlier, he'd arrived in the old ghost town called Silver Creek, using the directions of Betsy's scribbled map.  
At the first glimpse of the mining buildings, Murdock quickly took a side road to park the van out of sight behind a large, half-collapsed shed. It was close enough to the buildings but just far enough to stay concealed. The lanky pilot planned to cover the rest of the distance on foot, hoping he would find B.A in a good enough condition to walk out of the place on his own accord. Carrying him would be out of the question.

The injured pilot had tried to ready himself as best and as quickly as he could manage. At least the adrenaline helped him think more clearly, but his body kept shaking.  
Still feeling rather cold from the night, he put on his pilot jacket.  
The heavy leather on his shoulders immediately made him feel safer and gave him a sense of much-needed confidence.

Murdock quickly scanned the van for any guns and rifles, but to his exasperation, he had to conclude that the vehicle had been stripped clean of any weapon. He wished he could remember what had happened, but trying to figure it out was hurting his head too much. So he gave up and the big black hole of emptiness remained.  
There was no other option. He simply had to try and find other means to defend himself and he hastily filled his pockets with whatever he could find.

Instead of a gun, he'd pocketed Hannibals' Swiss army knife, his purple glow-in-the-dark yo-yo, and his trusty pocket-sized flashlight that had already served him well that morning. He even found some fresh batteries for it.

"Who knows. It may just come in handy," Murdock told himself while trying to stay optimistic.

If all else failed, he could always throw said items at the enemy to cause instant distraction and get the hell out of there while (hopefully) giving them a black eye in the process.  
Right... positive thinking... sanguine and such... yes ... he could do that...  
If only he had a grenade instead of a yo-yo... or an atomic bomb...

Then there was the matter of food and water. Even though Murdock's mind wasn't into it, his protesting body told him differently. He knew he was functioning on his last reserves and needed to get something into his system to operate as best he could. But the waves of nausea weren't making it easy.  
However, with B.A's life at stake, Murdock didn't exactly fancy barging into the enemy's camp and faint on the doorstep because he forgot to fill his tank. That would be _such_ a waste of a perfectly good element of surprise.  
So... long story short; Murdock forced himself to drink more water and he even managed to eat a whole candy bar, though keeping it down had been a challenge of a different caliber.  
Still swallowing hard, Murdock ordered Billy to stay with the van and bark whenever anyone with a mean brow and unfriendly eyes was approaching it. He wasn't going to get his dog in any harm's way if he could prevent it.  
Eventually, he clumsily covered part of the van with some scraggly bushes and, while muttering a goodbye to Billy, entered enemy territory.

Currently, Murdock lay belly-down on the ground, concealed by the yellow flowers while staring at the two most prominent buildings in front of him.  
The closest building, if you could even call it that, was huge. But it looked more like a ruin than anything else.  
Once upon a time, it must've been very impressive with its five-story-high walls and the tall windows. Now it looked decayed. Part of the roof of the building had caved in, plants were growing freely within the walls, and part of it looked blackened by a fire that must've happened years ago.

The other construction, a smaller, though still impressively big, brick building was partly hidden from Murdock's view. It was situated approximately 20 yards away from the ruin and had the looks of a museum or perhaps an old visitor's center.  
Like the bigger building, it looked like it hadn't been cared for in at least a decade. Some of the orange roof tiles were missing at places, and some windows were broken. But in contrast to the huge building, it hadn't been burned down or partly collapsed.

While calculating the distance between his hiding place and the ruin, Murdock slowly got up into a crouch.  
Earlier, he'd seen some movement behind the windows of the service center, but all looked quiet now. He knew he needed to take a risk.  
Small pearls of sweat formed on Murdock's brow as he readied himself for a sprint.  
Without realizing it, he was softly humming ' _You are my sunshine_ ' under his breath again.  
 _Now!  
_ Murdock's eyes widened in concentration and like a jack in a box, he ran full-speed into the direction of the biggest of the buildings.  
His arms were pumping as his long legs quickly covered the distance. The moment he reached the building, he ducked low and flattened himself against the wall that was hidden in the shadows. Breathing hard, he cautiously sneaked a peek around the corner and looked at the customer's center for any enemy movement.  
But there was none.  
It appeared that he'd gone unnoticed and Murdock let out a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes briefly while taking a few steadying breaths.  
Next move… if the world stopped spinning… was getting close to the other building without being seen.  
Murdock decided to try his chances and make his way through the remains of the ruin to stay out of sight.  
Close to where he stood was an old crooked door that stood ajar, and the lanky pilot quickly slipped inside.

Murdock had to blink a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim-lit surroundings. Amongst the rubble, there were remains of old heavy metal machinery. His jaw dropped a little. It was impressive. The hallway was huge and the ceilings reached high.  
Spread on the ground there were scraps, engines, filtration systems, tubes and even enormous gears that used to be part of some impressive machinery.  
B.A sure would get a kick out of this stuff if he could see it! Murdock was sure of it.  
Carefully stepping over the tubes, wooden beams, and other scraps, the lanky man made his way through the building.  
The place was covered with thick greasy layers of dirt and dust. Plants seemed to grow everywhere while lizards fled for the lanky intruder.  
Murdock felt uneasy as he entered the heart of the abandoned place. The silence was almost palpable and made him feel tense.  
A sudden high-pitched cry and fluttering movement made Murdock jump and duck behind a stack of metal plates.  
It turned out to be a bird. He cursed himself for being such a coward and was still muttering something about a _stupid feather duster_ when he reached the other end of the big hall. There was a closed door he assumed would lead him into another huge room or chamber.  
The lanky pilot hesitated for a second while listening intently for any movement behind the door.  
All was quiet, and he cautiously entered what looked like an old workshop. Like the other rooms of the building, it was spacious and had a big barricaded double door. The place was only illuminated by a ray of sunlight that glittered through the broken pieces of glass of the old dirty window frames.  
Suddenly Murdock's eyes fell upon two cars that were parked in the middle of the room.  
Apparently, the room was functioning as an improvised garage.  
The space looked like it had been cleaned up recently. The floor around the vehicles was cleared off all rubble and debris, and the pilot's keen eyes noted that the two vehicles were the only things in the building that hadn't gathered thick layers of dust.

Murdock observed the cars with interest.  
There was a dark blue four-door sedan with a broken headlight which Murdock immediately disregarded without much interest. It didn't ring any bells for him.  
However, when he laid his eyes on the other car, his heart performed a happy somersault.  
It was a pick-up truck with faded lettering that he'd recognized from the video!  
 _  
YES!_

Murdock beamed at the sight of it.  
He was sure of it now.  
B.A 'had' to be here... he just had to be!  
And seeing that, apart from this room, the rest of the building looked abandoned, the pilot had a good hunch that his friend must be held somewhere in the old visitor's center.

Murdock walked to the middle of the room and stealthily approached the cars.  
Just as he reached the dark-blue vehicle while contemplating to check the glove compartment for a weapon, he heard loud voices and the sound of quickly approaching footsteps. Murdock flinched and looked around feverishly in search of a hiding spot. There was none!  
A creaky door opened on the other end of the room and Murdock only had a second to crawl underneath the dark-blue car.  
Wide-eyed, and hoping that nobody heard the shuffling sounds he'd made, he peered at the pair of feet that were soon closing in on him.

"Did you hear somethin'?" He heard one of the two men that entered the room say.

"Probably rats," the other man shrugged. "This place is _infested_ with 'm."

Murdock saw a pair of snake leather cowboy boots approaching his car and halting right next to where he lay. The pilot held his breath while eyeing the highly decorated boots with wary interest and giving them names.

"I'm glad this will be over soon," Mr. SnakeBoot said while rolling himself a cigarette and leaning against the four-door sedan.

"It's good news that Bert and Ernest finally tackled the other two targets. We'll finally gonna get paid for all our hard work!"

"Yeah. Payment is sweet," the man at the other end of the room acknowledged.

Murdock quickly adopted him Mr. Sneakers, seeing he was wearing a pair of white hightops.

"And I can't wait to see Peck and Smith captured," Mr. Sneakers went on while walking toward the double door and removing the wooden drawbars.  
"Us, capturing the A-team. Can you believe it? Won't that look awesome on our resumes?" he joked.

Murdock's limbs tensed at the unexpected mention of his friends. His eyes darkened, and his hands balled into fists as he watched the sneakers returning to the cars. Finally it started to dawn on him what was going on.

"I wonder why our guys were delayed though. You think they'd gotten themselves into trouble with those two commandos?" Sneakers asked.

"Who knows with the notorious A-team." SnakeBoot shrugged. "But they got them nevertheless. And according to Don, they got them real good!"

SnakeBoot chuckled while dropping his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with the heel of his boot.

"And I heard from Lee that that giant fella ain't doing so well.  
Lee gave him food and bandages, but he refuses to eat or tend to that leg of his. Seems a bit subdued if you ask me."

Murdock closed his eyes at these words and felt a shudder of anger running down his spine.

"All the better...," Sneakers continued with a smug voice. "He will be easier to handle if he's weak, ain't he?"

"Yeah, I guess..." SnakeBoot shrugged. "Anyway...better be going to help the guys with Peck and Smith. Don told us to hurry..."

"Don can kiss my shiny you-know-what," Sneakers muttered under his breath.

"Don't let him hear you!" SnakeBoots laughed as both men stepped into the car.

When Murdock heard two doors slam, he'd forgotten to breathe entirely. His eyes shut open, realizing that he wasn't sure which car the men just entered!  
Lying underneath a car that was about to take off suddenly didn't seem like a very wise decision.  
It all felt a bit too familiar to him.  
Argh! He really should stop hiding under cars! It was _such_ a bad habit.

The car engine started with a booming roar. The pilot winced and squeezed his eyes shut again. It didn't even matter if they'd run him over or not. His element of surprise would be blown either way.  
The pilot rolled his head sidewards and tried to flatten himself as much as he could while the ground vibrated and the car started to move.  
It rolled backward and out of the open garage doors. Someone stepped out to close the doors again and the lanky pilot was left alone in the dim-lit room.

 _"Huh!?"_

Murdock cautiously opened one eye and gazed at the greasy belly of the four-door sedan before opening the other one as well.  
He could hear the engine sounds of the pick-up truck fading in the distance.  
It was quiet for a few seconds...  
Then, without being able to contain himself, he started to giggle loudly.  
They took the _pick-up truck_! It seemed that Lady Luck had been on his side once more. Gosh, how he loved that gal!

But the giggling fit ended as abruptly as it began. Murdock's expression changed in one of deep concern.  
This was bad...real bad. The colonel and Faceman were captured too!  
He had no idea how to tackle this new problem. But one thing at the time.  
He really needed to hurry and find B.A. first.

Murdock needed a few moments to gather and control his emotions before shuffling his way out from under the car.  
Getting up, he wavered in place, suddenly feeling very tired. While holding on to the roof of the car, he shook his head to get rid of the giddiness and made his way to the door at the end of the room. It was the same door the men had come from and he needed to know what lay behind it.  
As he opened it and peeked around the edge, he realized the door led him outside into the bright sunlight again.  
Murdock noticed that the visitor center was only 20 yards away now.  
Squinting at the other building, the lanky man discovered another door.  
The footprints on the dusty ground seemed to lead to it, but it meant he had to cross open terrain again.

"Come on Murdock. The game is afoot!" Murdock mumbled to himself.

Sighing deeply while eyeing the windows with cautious eyes, he made another run for it.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12 - Right string, wrong yo-yo

Hey there! This time the wait wasn't too long, I hope.  
As always, I want to show/write my grattitude for the lovely people who took time to read and comment. Thanks thanks thanks!  
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Please don't kill me for leaving it with another cliffhanger.  
Can't be helped, or my chapters get too long, haha.

Cheers! I hope you enjoy this one. Finally part of the team meets again.

* * *

Chapter 12 - The right string, but the wrong yo-yo

Murdock had been silently exploring the visitor's center for some time now.  
To his frustration, the building seemed bigger than he thought and it was all taking him way longer than expected. He had to move slowly, and it was costing him precious time.  
On top of that, he had a certain song stuck in his head. It made a lot of noise and it was also becoming slightly distracting.  
Focusing had become a bit of a problem for the wounded pilot. And he seemed more clumsy than usual  
Nevertheless, he knew he'd made some progress.  
So far, he'd detected two guys in the building; both of them, unfortunately, armed.  
One of them, a small balding man, was working in a room filled with boxes. His face was covered with a dust mask, and he seemed deeply absorbed with the filling and sealing of small packages that contained some powdery white stuff.  
Murdock reckoned that the old visitor's center, other than becoming an A-team prison, was also being used as a drug station of some sorts.  
Come to think of it; it _was_ situated in a rather convenient location. A ghost town, far away enough from civilization and most importantly of all: away from prying eyes.

The second guy Murdock stumbled upon seemed to be someone of more importance. He breathed a natural air of authority.  
The man, lean, dark-haired and with a goatee, was armed too and carried his weapon in a handgun holster over his chest.  
His eyes seemed pale and cold, and Murdock couldn't prevent a shudder at the sight of him.  
Somehow this guy reminded him of something very unpleasant, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.  
Currently, the man was fleetingly going through a pile of paperwork.  
Murdock was spying through a creak of the door when the crook suddenly stood up and walked toward that very same door to leave his headquarters.  
For the second time that day, the lanky pilot only had seconds to get out of there!  
He quickly leaped into a nearby corridor and ducked behind a stack of wooden crates.  
Losing his balance, he tumbled against the wall and made a racket that made the crates tremble.  
Flinching at the sound and peeking through a crack between them, he saw the tall man stop in track, reach for his gun and slowly turn around with suspicion plastered on his face.  
His heart bouncing in his throat, Murdock moved his hand inside his jacket pocket to look for a weapon to defend himself.

 _Oh great... I have the choice of a yo-yo, a flashlight, and a Swiss army knife._

Keeping an eye on Don from his hideout, his hand feverishly seized the first thing he touched.  
Don took a step closer, and Murdock could almost feel his gaze burning right through the barrier that kept him out of view. Murdock vaguely wondered if the man had x-ray vision. He would be so screwed if that was the case! But help came from an unexpected source.  
Just as the pilot seized the army knife, a rat jumped out of one of the crates with a loud squeak!  
It dashed away into the corridor and ran out of sight while dodging Don's stomping feet.

"Damn those rats!" Don growled, feeling infuriated that he just got fooled by a rodent.

He really needed to get rid of them. They were becoming a pest.  
For a moment, Don's suspicious eyes scanned the stack of crates again. Murdock held his breath while Don's gaze lingered for a few more seconds.  
Then the man put his gun back in his holster, turned around, and continued his way.  
Murdock exhaled inaudibly. Another close call. When would his luck end?  
Getting up into a crouch, he peeked over the crates and watched the man take a turn at the end of the corridor. He quickly got back to his feet and followed the goon on tip-toe.  
Maybe the man would lead him to B.A...

* * *

Don was on his way to see Hunter who was on guard duty.  
Baracus hadn't even tried to escape, which was a good thing.  
Taking the stairs down to the basement, his mind was still occupied with the other two soon-to-be prisoners. He expected his helpers back any minute now. And with the new arrival of Peck and Smith, he needed to be sure everything was ready for their 'stay'.  
The A-team, and specifically that arrogant commander Hannibal Smith had the reputation to escape from the most daring circumstances. Don didn't feel like taking any chances with him.

"Hunter!" Don barked as he entered the hallway and saw his man sitting slouched down on a chair with his feet on the table. In one hand he had a car-magazine and his other hand was occupied with a can of beer. His gun lay forgotten on the table.  
The skinny ponytailed man immediately jumped at Don's attention while simultaneously dropping both magazine and beer. The can hit the floor with a loud rattle while spilling beer freely over the dirty tiles. Hunter winced.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on Baracus," Don said with a sharp voice while narrowing his eyes. The expression on his face said: 'Danger'.

"Yes, sir! You did, sir!" Hunter said while trying not to sound worried.

"And yet, I see you're taking it rather easy...' Don said with a scornful smile on his pale features. He was silently enjoying the expression of fear growing on his henchman's face.

"I... er..." Hunter muttered, his brain working hard to come up with a good excuse.

"Never you mind..." Don growled. "Any news to report on Baracus' condition?"

Hunter, feeling relieved that Don wasn't pressing the matter, was all too keen to answer.

"He ain't eatin' sir," Hunter said.

"He ain't doing anything much but staring at the wall really."

"Hm.." Don said. His voice sounded more satisfied now. "Good..."

"You want to see him, sir?" Hunter asked while producing a key from his jeans pocket.

"No, not right now." Don said, gathering his thoughts for a second while eying the three doors in front of him. One of them leads into the chamber that was currently occupied by Baracus... The other two were still vacant.

"I need you to make sure the other two rooms are prepared for Smith and Peck. They'll be locked away separately. Make sure they are _completely_ empty. These men are unpredictable and capable of using _anything_ to find a way out. I'm going back upstairs to prepare for their arrival. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hunter said obediently.

Don turned around to make his way back upstairs but remembered something, paused and turned around again.

"Oh, and do make sure Baracus ain't dying on us yet. The boss needs him alive for now. Go check on him and see what you can do after you're done dealing with the rooms."

"No problem," Hunter said.

Don nodded coldly and left the hallway.  
Hunter's silky attitude changed immediately as he snarled darkly at the back of his chief.  
Then he grabbed his gun, put it in his hip holster and went to work.

* * *

Murdock had been listening eagerly to the conversation of the two men from behind an old metal filing cabinet.  
He ducked away into the shadows when Don finally left and passed the cabinets on his way upstairs. Fortunately, he didn't notice the pilot. But if he'd turned around that very moment, Murdock was sure he would've been caught. It was a good thing they weren't exactly expecting him to be there alive and (sort of) well.  
 _"The element of surprise is strong with this one,"_ Murdock smirked. _  
_Then he shook his head. He was getting himself distracted again. What he really needed to do was concentrate on making his next move

 _You are my sunshine... My only sunshine..._

Urgh.  
For a moment, Murdock squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. That song just kept repeating itself. Maybe it was because it reminded him of the colonel. It made him feel a bit more confident, but at the same time, it was also distracting him from thinking clearly.  
He tried hard to ignore it and opened his eyes again.  
Peeking around the filing cabinets, Murdock watched the man named Hunter checking the two empty chambers and walking in and out while removing bits of furniture and boxes. The third door would probably lead to B.A.  
Murdock was getting very concerned about the big guy after the little bit of information he'd overheard. He had to hurry!  
The crazy pilot considered trying to overpower the man. But Hunter was armed with a gun, and Murdock wasn't.  
Of course, he could trick the man and knock him down in a fight. But Murdock wasn't really trusting his fighting abilities right now. He felt giddy, and focusing _was_ getting a bit of a challenge. It felt like he was moving in a haze while blundering his way forward, though he tried hard to ignore that fact.  
What he needed right now was another way in.  
After confirming that Hunter was keeping himself busy, Murdock started screening his surroundings for a possible solution to his problem. He didn't have to search long. His eyes almost immediately fell on a square shaped metal frame in the ceiling right above his head. He recognized it as an old air conditioning system.  
Bingo!  
Murdock's tired face lit up again. He knew what to do!  
With a bit of luck, these were connected to the three chambers.  
It was gonna be _a piece of cake_. He'd done this before and, even though he was tall, he knew he was skinny enough to try and make his way through the tight passageway. Hopefully, he'd find his way into B.A's room without getting caught. It was worth a try.  
Murdock realized he wasn't sure what he was going to do _after_ finding his friend. But he would worry about that later.

"One problem at the time," he told himself firmly.

Checking on Hunter, who'd just walked back into one of the chambers again, Murdock quickly climbed onto the old filing cabinet and carefully removed the grill from its frame, silently thankful it had some sort of click-on system. A cloud of dust welcomed him. Murdock squeezed his nose shut just in time to prevent a loud sneezing fit.  
Sniffing quietly, he lay down the grill on the cabinet and grabbed his mini flashlight from his jacket pocket. Turning it on, Murdock directed an investigating beam of light into the shaft.  
It was covered with a thick layer of grey dust, accompanied by pearly white cobwebs.

"Oh goodie...Dustbunnies," Murdock mumbled to himself before climbing into the metal tunnel.

It was small but just big enough for him to move his arms around and crawl forward. And it was probably also very helpful that he'd lost a bit of weight during the last few weeks. He just hoped he wasn't making too much noise while crawling through the shafts. Hopefully, Hunter was too occupied to notice.

The shaft was narrow, and it made Murdock feel slightly claustrophobic. He didn't enjoy tight spaces at all. It reminded him too much of his time as a POW, and he wasn't really looking forward to reliving those memories right now. Sweat dripped down his nose as he concentrated on getting forward and out of the place asap.  
Suddenly a skitting sound close-by made Murdock gasp with fright. He'd almost yelled when a big black rat fled from the light that penetrated the darkness.  
Damn, that guy was right. The place really _was_ infested with them.  
His heart pounded madly in his chest and he had to stop and squeeze his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness hit him again.  
Concentrating hard, he willed it away. No time for silliness and wobbly walls.  
Slowly but steadily, Murdock started crawling forward in the cramped space. For some reason, his exhausted mind was with Hannibal and wondering if his commander would approve of this plan. Somehow, the thought of it comforted him a bit and he softly began humming _You are my sunshine_ under his breath...  
The only problem was that he didn't know he was doing it.

* * *

B.A was sitting slumped down against the wall of the cold chamber.  
He hadn't moved from his spot since last night and didn't really feel the need nor energy to do anything anymore.  
His whole body was shivering and cold sweat dripped from his face.  
The infected leg was burning like hell. It was beyond painful.  
At times, B.A was fading in and out of consciousness. His moments awake were sometimes accompanied by visions of his friends and his mama.  
Occasionally, one of the thugs had entered the chamber to check on him, but he ignored them and pretended they weren't there. He hadn't touched his food, though he'd drank a little from the water bottle. He was burning up and it was getting harder and harder to keep reality and dreams apart.  
The dreams were slowly turning into mind-messing nightmares.  
His guilt-ridden conscious kept reminiscing the last conversations he had with the fool. Murdock's tales of howling dog omens, haunting spirits amongst other things, repeated in his mind.  
B.A could actually see his friend sitting next to him in the van, jabbering about... what was it again? Houdini?

 _"...Before he died, Houdini and his wife formed a secret code."_ Murdock told him.  
 _"If Houdini would die ahead of his wife, he would try and find a way to contact her and drop her the message 'Rosabelle believe'."_

A cloudy image of Murdock turned around in the passenger's seat and looked at the delirious B.A.

 _"I think we should create a code too. You know..., just in case something happens to us?"_

"Nothin' will happen, fool!" B.A said out loud to the hazy vision of his dead friend.

But Murdock didn't hear him.

 _"'Rosabelle' was a song that Houdini and his wife liked.  
_ _Maybe our code should be 'You are my sunshine'. That's a song we like, right?"_

"It's a song the Colonel likes!" B.A heard himself mumble.

 _"But B.A, what if something happens and I can't contact you after death and can't haunt you to tell you I'm fine?!"_ Murdock insisted while slowly fading away.

"No..." B.A whispered. He blinked hard and looked around with feverish eyes.

The chamber was empty again, and the hallucination had vanished into thin air.  
B.A shook his head. It had been a dream... a memory.  
Or had it?  
His ears pricked up as he heard a soft scattering sound coming from above him. And there was another noise. Humming...  
He could hear it clearly now. That song!  
The big man's eyes widened as he searched the ceiling. But besides a lot of cobwebs, there was nothing out of the ordinary.  
No hallucinations this time..., or that's what he hoped.  
But he was sure of it now. It _was_ the familiar melody of the song he knew _so_ well _.  
_ Though he'd never admit it to his teammates, B.A had always liked the song. But this time it was different. Right now it sounded hollow and eerie, and he didn't want to hear it! However, the humming continued relentlessly.  
Goosebumps raised on B.A's arms and neck and an ice cold shiver ran down his spine as he suddenly realized what hearing the song meant. The fool had come back from the dead like he said he would!

Just that moment, Hunter barged into the chamber with his gun raised.  
"Are you making that noise?!" He demanded from B.A who was still staring at the ceiling.  
B.A didn't respond. The bulky mechanic's foggy mind was completely absorbed with fear as he just sat there on the ground; frozen, feverish and wounded.  
He couldn't move, he didn't even dare to blink.  
The horrified expression playing on the big man's pallid features even caused Hunter to shiver slightly. This was creepy.  
B.A's haunted eyes were following the frightful humming as it moved from one point to the other end of the room accompanied by a soft shuffling sound.

"M-Murd'ck..." he croaked

Hunter looked from the ceiling to B.A.

 _"Murdock?"_

His prisoner must be hallucinating. Probably rats again, though rats didn't sing usually...  
Another scuffling sound pulled Hunter's gaze back up to the ceiling. Noting what direction the sound came from, he finally realized what it was he was hearing.

"There is someone in the air shafts!" he cried out loud.

Immediately, the humming and shuffling stopped.  
Hunter seized his gun and stared at the metal grill of the old air-conditioning system. It was located almost right above him.  
The man squinted his eyes. Did he see small flashes of light move behind the grill?  
He aimed his gun and approached it carefully.

"I'm pointing a gun at you," he said with a firm voice. "Now get the hell out of there, whoever you are!"

* * *

 _"There is someone in the air shafts!"_

The voice echoed through the metal passageway.

Horror-struck and with wide open eyes, Murdock clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from singing.  
He knew he had a song stuck in his head, but he hadn't realized that he'd been giving it a voice until now!  
They finally found him! What to do?

Panic-stricken, Murdock shone his flashlight at the grid that was only a few inches away from his spot.  
He was so close to B.A. SO close!  
Between him and his friend stood a rather unpleasant man, waiting for him to come out. Murdock suddenly wasn't so keen on the idea.

"I'm pointing a gun at you," a voice said firmly. "Now get the hell out of there, whoever you are!"

Murdock quickly outweighed his options. Was there any other way out?  
Finding none, he did the only thing that came to mind, which frankly wasn't much other than:

"GERONIMOOO!"

Murdock pushed himself forward and hit the grill as hard as he could.  
With a loud clatter, both pilot and grill tumbled out of the air shaft on top of a completely startled Hunter, who didn't quite see that one coming.

 _CRASH!_

Even though Murdock landed on top of flesh instead of a solid floor, the landing wasn't exactly smooth. Both men toppled onto the ground with a loud thud. Hunter's gun skidded over the floor, and Murdock rolled on his side in a puff of powdery dust.  
For a moment he just lay still, mentally commanding the world to stop spinning.  
His clothes, cap, hair, and face were coated in dirt, dust, and thick cobwebs that were making him look pale and haggard like a ghost; A detail that didn't go unnoticed by the injured man in the corner of the room who was watching the whole scene in front of him with disbelief.

Murdock groaned while trying to push himself from the ground on hands and feet.  
Hunter, who'd recovered quicker, scrambled to his feet and lurched forward to grab his gun. But Murdock grasped him around the ankles, making Hunter hit the ground once more. Both men struggled for the weapon, but Murdock's unfocused attempts were fruitless. Hunter kicked him hard in the stomach, and as the lanky pilot curled into a ball with the wind knocked out of him, the goon's hands found the handgun first. Standing up with an evil smirk on his face, he aimed the gun at the lanky pilot who sat panting on his knees with his face down.

"Hands up in the air!" he barked.

Murdock raised two fingers in the air while getting up slowly. With an incredulous look, he stared into the eyes of his opponent who suddenly made a sound of surprise.

" _YOU?!_ " Hunter cried.

"Um... surprise?" Murdock said innocently.

Hunter's smirk changed into a look of disbelief while his gun wavered in his hand. "That's impossible!"

"It is?" Murdock inquired with a pensive look on his face while trying hard to sound unfazed. "Because if it is, then I don't think I have to be too worried right now..."

Hunter looked puzzled for a second but composed himself quickly.

"So it _IS_ you..!" he said, his bewilderment rapidly changing into excitement.

"Oh ho ho, but this is good... This is _REAL_ good," he snickered.

The man's eyes didn't leave Murdock's for a second while gleaming dangerously. He licked his lips.

"Apparently, I'm getting a second chance... Someone high up there must be wanting me to finish what I started in that supermarket."

Hunter revealed his teeth as he aimed his gun again, his finger slowly closing around the trigger.  
Murdock's eyes widened. He had to think on his feet.

"S-Stop!" he stammered quickly, picking his brain for the right thing to say.

"A-Are you _just_ gonna shoot me? At _'this'_ short distance while I'm unarmed and easy-peasy? What kind of victory is that? Are you a coward? Come on and beat me in a real fight!"

Murdock bit his lip. He knew his words were kinda lame. Only an idiot would fall for that kind of trick and he knew perfectly well that he was only stalling and bluffing _big time_. But his throbbing head couldn't exactly come up with anything better, and the floor was still moving like the deck of a ship.  
From the corner of his eye, he could see the big guy. He wished that his strong friend could help him now, but there was no sign of B.A getting up or even recognizing him at all.

 _Please let this goon's mind be as thick as marshmallows. Pretty Please with a frisbee on top. Never underestimate the value of a frisbee..._

Hunter lowered his weapon again, his eyes narrowing contemplatively while considering Murdock's words.  
The lunatic had a point. Hunter was a man of honor. He liked to hunt, but he liked a challenge too. This would be way too easy.  
His thin lips curled again.

"Alright wise guy, choose your weapon... "

 _Halleluja and thank you for small mercy's_

Trying hard not to smirk, Murdock quickly put his hands in his pockets in search of the right weapon.

"Hold it..." Hunter said.

Murdock looked up and to his horror saw that Hunter's gun was now pointing at B.A in the corner.

"Don't try anything funny, and your friend gets it."

Murdock composed himself quickly and nodded, wondering what would be the best weapon to use. He didn't have many options.  
His eyes flashed to his unmoving friend, who, at closer inspection, _did_ seem to look right back at him. But why did he look so terrified? He was here to _save_ him, not scare him.

"Hurry up!" Hunter barked.

Murdock's hand closed around the glow-in-the-dark yo-yo, and a small smile appeared on his dust-smudged face as he pulled it from his pocket.  
Hunter guffawed as Murdock showed him the plastic toy while carefully wrapping the thin thread around one finger.

"That's your pick?" He mocked at the lanky pilot. "That's your weapon?"

"What on earth can you do with a yo-..."

 _WHACK!_

Before Hunter could even finish that sentence, Murdock had launched his yo-yo with such force; there was not even a nano-second to react.  
The zooming object had hit him firmly on the temple and knocked him out instantly.  
Hitting the ground hard, Hunter lay completely motionless, his mouth slightly ajar. Thanking the stars for his good aim, the lanky pilot didn't let any minute go to waste and immediately jumped on top of his victim. Pulling the man's arms onto his back, he tied both hands together with the yo-yo string while singing. _"You got the right string baby, but the wrong yo-yo.."_ *.

Putting a double knot to the string, he turned around.

"You saw that Big guy? Now that's what I call a _Whackadoodle_..." Murdock gleamed as he also tied Hunter's shoelaces for good measure.  
Not getting any response, he looked up to face his friend and frowned.

"B.A!?... B.A, are you alright, buddy?"

There was no response. Only two burning eyes that were staring back at Murdock with a look of... what was it? Terror?

Murdock quickly made his way to the big guy and lowered himself onto his knees while grasping a gold-clad, and very clammy hand.

B.A flinched and instantly pulled away, trying to make himself as small as he could. That wasn't at all B.A-like.  
His feverish eyes stared at Murdock in a way that unsettled the lanky pilot immensely. Something was _very_ wrong.

"Come on Big Guy. It's me, H.M, _I'm fine_. See?"

No response.

"Sheesh, B.A! If I didn't know better, I would think you've just seen a ghost..." Murdock tried again with a cheerful banter.

But the effect of his words was unexpected. B.A whimpered and raised both arms in front of his face while shaking heavily.

Murdock frowned. This wasn't the B.A he knew. The big guy wasn't afraid of anything! But yet, he seemed to be afraid of him.  
Confused and very worried now, Murdock raised a hand to touch his friend's arm but then thought better of it.  
Instead, he had a better look at his teammate. To his horror, B.A's leg had swollen up almost half its size, and the wound that was visible behind the fabric looked infected. Murdock also noted the wound on the man's shoulder that looked like a graze.

B.A was sweating and trembling profusely, his dark skin looked pallid and there was a very pale tinge to his lips, even for a man of his color. Without needing to check his temperature, Murdock could feel the heat radiating off his friend's body. The big guy needed medical attention, and fast!

"B.A,... Bosco... ehmm Scooter?" (Anything to get a reaction). "Please. It's me! Come on, you recognize me, right? We need to get you out of here, buddy. Can you stand up?"

Slowly, B.A lowered his arms to stare at the pleading ghost in front of him.  
Or was it really a spirit or a ghost? Hadn't he felt his touch? Surely a ghost wasn't solid, was it?  
Maybe it wasn't another hallucination.  
But then his eyes slowly shifted to something that was moving behind Murdock's shoulder.  
There was someone standing right behind him...

* * *

*('The right string but the wrong yo-yo' was a song performed by Piano Red -1950 - Look him up on youtube!)


	13. Chapter 13 - Party Crashers

Hello Hello again. Wow, I managed to write this chapter rather fast this time.  
The team is ALMOST complete now.  
I hope I can still entertain you with my story.  
On a side-note: The main villain, or the 'End-Boss' of the story is just a made-up character by me. He's one of the many bad guys that the A-team had encountered (and angered) over the years. Hannibal knows him, but he hasn't been in any of the real episodes.

Without further ado: I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.  
And thanks SO much for the encouraging reviews. I can't tell you that enough. They really make my day.

* * *

Chapter 13: Party Crashers

"Come on B.A. It's me. Your buddy Murdock."

Crouched down onto his knees and talking softly to his friend, Murdock tried to give B.A a quick medical exam without touching him.  
He needed to make an assessment of his friend's injuries without aggravating him even more. The big guy was clearly running a fever, and the lack of any real recognition, multiplied with the anxious look in his eyes had disturbed the pilot greatly.  
"'S okay big fella, doctor Murdock is here," he mumbled while looking worriedly at the clearly infected leg wound. "Ouch, they really gotya good, huh?" Murdock winced, knowing that it needed immediate treatment. Damn...What else was there?  
While checking out the graze on the shoulder, Murdock noticed the sudden tightening of the bulking muscles in B.A's arm. Both bejeweled hands slowly clenched into fists and his whole body tensed.  
Immediately all of Murdock's mental alarm bells went off.  
With a questioning look (while vaguely wondering if it was high time to get out of harm's way), he gazed up into the dark eyes of his teammate.  
The previous look of horror had been replaced with an unmistaken glower of hatred. But the hateful glare wasn't aimed at Murdock...

Cursing himself for his inattentiveness, the lanky man jumped back to his feet and whirled around to face the person that had managed to sneak upon him so silently.  
He cringed as he recognized the villain of all villains whom he wanted to see least of all. As he stared right into the cold eyes of the man he'd been following only ten minutes earlier, an unsettling feeling crept upon him. It was as if his mind was trying to tell him that he should _know_ the guy. But to his utter frustration, all he could do was drawing a blank.  
Don, who'd stealthily entered the room, was now observing the lanky pilot with inquisitive eyes. His gun was aimed loosely, almost lazily, at Murdock's heart, though he didn't give the impression that he was going to use it soon. His expression lingered somewhere between mild curiosity and definite irritation as the lanky man in front of him had finally noticed his presence.  
Murdock grimaced darkly while positioning himself in front of his friend.  
With a swift move, and without breaking eye contact with Don, he fished his Swiss army knife from his jacket pocket. Flicking it open it revealed a sharp but rather unimpressive blade. Nevertheless, it didn't stop the pilot from aiming it at his opponent.  
"Let us go...," he growled as menacingly as he could.  
Don just stared at his lanky opponent with a flicker of amusement on his face. This was going to be fun. The crazy man looked disheveled and pale wich was enhanced by the fact that he was covered in dust and cobwebs. His appearance almost resembled that of a ghost... Almost. But why wasn't he dead?  
As Don noticed the slight sway in Murdock's shaky legs, his lips curled into a spine-chilling smile.  
The villain could tell from the hazy glare and the slight sheen of sweat on his opponent's face that he wasn't exactly feeling a 100%. But it was clear that the pilot tried to hide his discomfort and pretended to be ready to fight.  
Maybe Don hadn't killed him off properly, but he'd at least done a number on him... The thought alone amused him. It was time to play….  
The villain glanced briefly at the immobile Baracas who was still sitting slumped down against the wall. He didn't even need to look twice at the wounded man to consider him a threat anymore.

"Tut tut, Mr. Murdock" Don finally spoke, exposing his slightly pointed teeth and gesturing at the small knife. "Are you trying to impress me with that..what is it? A butter knife?"

Seeing Murdock frown, he chuckled coldly and heaved a long and theatrical sigh.

"'I wonder though... How many bullets does it take to kill a mad man? Apparently, one wasn't quite enough. It seems like you're very good at ' _dodging them_ ' so to speak. I guess I'll need to experiment some more to find out..."

Murdock's brow furrowed as his mind finally started to connect the dots.  
Subconsciously, he raised his hand and touched the tender side of his injured head. He winced slightly as his fingertips brushed against the wound hidden under the cap where the bullet had grazed his skull.

"Yes, that's right. I tried to shoot you in the head," Don stated while eyeing the pilot with interest. "Apparently, I missed a spot…." He sighed.  
"Such a sloppy result... And certainly not my best work to date either, mind you..." he added in a condescending tone of voice.. "But no worries, I can fix that mistake,"

The villain raised his gun slightly as he fixed his aim on Murdock's head. The pilot blinked in surprise wondering if this was finally the end. Seeing no other way out, his body automatically readied itself to jump at the man, but then Don lowered his weapon again, looking pensively at the pilot. Murdock looked at him in bewilderment. 'What' was up with this guy!? Was he just toying with him now?

"I could kill you right on the spot," Don spoke with an almost bored voice now, his pale eyes piercing Murdock's dark ones. "But what would be the fun in that?" Maybe I'll just play with you a little longer...  
Now drop your knife!'" he hissed while his thin lips curled into a smile.

Murdock's jaws clenched. With wild eyes, he stared at his opponent. He simply refused to comply and be part of this cruel mind game. Instead, he raised his knife protectively.  
Don almost looked amused. Then he lowered his gun, aiming it at B.A, who was still sitting passively on the floor.  
Though, if he'd paid more attention, he would've noticed the fresh glint of awareness in B.A's eyes and the slight change in his pose. But all his focus lay on the pilot now.

"Drop it, or I'll just blast a bullet right through your friend," He said quietly. "I'm not picky…"

Murdock hesitated.  
For a short second, he closed his eyes firmly while taking a deep steadying breath.  
When he opened them again, they seemed darker and more dangerous than before. Nevertheless, he dropped the knife and kicked it away from him. Don chuckled.  
Then, without a warning, he lunged forward to grab the pilot by his jacket collar and yanked him roughly to the floor. Murdock, who wasn't suspecting this sudden move, tried hard to find his balance but stumbled clumsily over his feet. He landed merciless on the cold tiles where he rolled on his back, shaking his dazed head while desperately trying to regain his focus. Everything danced in front of the pilot's eyes. Don aimed his gun again. His eyes gleaming maniacally as he looked down at his victim.

"Let's play," he chuckled. "What about some extra air holes in your face? Or maybe I'll just start with your hands and feet. Your friend here can see you squirm."

Then a lot of things happened at once.

With an almost unearthly growl that Murdock had never heard before, B.A crouched to his feet and hauled himself on the unexpecting Don.  
Don's gun flew through the air and landed in a far corner of the room while both men fell to the ground. Murdock wasn't sure what had just happened. But seeing his friend moving on his own and finally fighting back, gave him hope.

"Big guy!" He shouted while scrambling back into a sitting position and beaming at his friend. "You're back!"

But Murdock's smile faltered instantly as B.A didn't seem to notice or hear him.  
The wounded sergeant was now on top of the crook, roaring and growling while hitting the man with all his might. Punch after punch struck Don in the face and chest. Even in his weakened state, the bulky sergeant was strong, and the impacts of his hits were deep enough to hurt his victim. Don had no chance of getting away from the pounding fists.  
Suddenly, two bejeweled hands wrapped themselves around his throat and started squeezing. Don's eyes widened as the big hands were slowly closing off his windpipe. He made awful choking sounds while his hands flailed at B.A's wrists. But the dark man didn't seem to notice.  
He'd lost all control, and his eyes were blinded by the rage that coursed through his veins the moment he'd recognized the criminal that killed his friend. His befuddled mind could only think of one thing, and that was attacking the man to destroy him.

"You're gonna pay," He roared with a hoarse voice. "YOU'RE GONNA PAY!"

Don's legs jerked as he tried to get out of the chokehold.  
Murdock who finally started to catch up with the situation crawled toward his friend and put his arms around one of B.A's muscular biceps.

"Let go B.A! You're killing him!" he panted while trying to pry away the iron grasp around Don's neck.

Without looking away from his victim, B.A shook his arm away from Murdock's grip. But Murdock didn't give up so easily and tried again.

"Snap out of it! We don't kill, remember?" Murdock yelled, trying hard to get through to his friend.

"He killed 'YOU!" B.A growled, "He's gotta pay!".

"No, no, big guy! He didn't," Murdock said weakly while desperately grabbing B.A's arm harder.  
Unintentionally, he put pressure on B.A's shoulder-wound while holding his arm in a firm grip.  
B.A growled in pain, and he roughly pushed Murdock away with such force the pilot fell backward to the ground. A blaze of stars exploded in front of his eyes.  
Murdock gasped and blinked hard to try to regain his vision. Gosh, he really wished they would stop throwing him around like a ragdoll all the time.

"W-We don't kill, B.A..." , he stammered while trying to get up from the ground, "The A-team doesn't kill, remember? Please come back, big guy."

B.A scowled as his glazed eyes were trying to focus on the pale, lanky figure on the ground. However, his grip on Don's throat weakened a little. Don's eyes were bulging at this point. His mouth was wide open, trying to take in air while his fingernails dug into B.A's arms  
But B.A didn't feel any of it.  
Instead, his rage and energy seemed to fade and slowly change into the all-consuming grief for the loss of his friend.  
All he could do was staring at Murdock, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You' not real," B.A said hoarsely.

There was an unsteady growl in his voice.

"You' dead... I told you to shut up, and he killed you."

In his mind, the bulky man could see it happen all over again.

"He shot you in the head...and...'S my fault..." B.A trailed off.

"My head is fiiine," Murdock lied with a feeble grin. "Never been better... And don't you talk no nonsense. You tell me to shut up all the time. And do I 'ever' listen?"

Sitting on his knees, the pilot tried inching his way closer to his friend.

"I'm not dead. Not yet anyway. Stop telling me scary bedtime stories! What would momma B. say if she knew?"

He cautiously put a comforting hand on B.A's shoulder and the big man didn't pull away this time.

Murdock looked at Don and sighed grudgingly.

"Come on you big angry Mudsucker. You really need to let go of this Yankee Doodle so we can wrap him up and send him to the authorities in a tiny envelope."

B.A looked at Murdock pensively as if he saw his friend for the very first time. He hesitated only for a moment but then let go. Don turned limply on his side while hacking and coughing and trying to get away from the two men.  
But neither men noticed him as B.A suddenly turned around on his knees and wordlessly flung his big heavy arms around Murdock's neck while knocking the air out of the pilot.  
Trapped in a rather uncomfy bear hug, Murdock patted B.A awkwardly on the back muttering: " 's Alright, big guy... I'm happy seein' you too. Now let go of me before I turn blue!"  
B.A didn't say a word and Murdock huffed as the big man suddenly started to get heavier as his body went limp.  
Not being able to hold his gold-clad friend any longer, both men toppled onto the floor with a low thud that knocked the wind out of the pilot for the third time.  
Murdock wasn't sure what had just happened, but he 'did' know that he was about to get squashed into a tortilla under all this dead weight.

"Urgh! I know you like food, B.A, but this is ridiculous!" Murdock gasped while flapping his arms wildly.

'That's it! You're goin' on a diet!"

With much struggling and puffing that didn't do his pounding head any good, he finally managed to squeeze his way out from under B.A's body and turned his friend onto his back. To his horror, he saw that B.A's eyes were closed, and his lips looked pale.

"No no no, Big guy! Don't do this! You gotta wake up man!"

Murdock shook his friend nervously while panic started to grow inside of him. He'd never seen his friend in a state like this before. This wasn't the big man he knew to be healthy as a horse and strong as a bear!  
Then another twinge of dread crept upon him.  
He hadn't kept an eye on his surroundings. What happened to that villain?  
As on cue, he heard a metallic cocking sound.  
Murdock looked up just in time to see a familiar gun aimed at him.  
Don stood in front of him on shaking legs. He was wheezing slightly, and his eyes were wild. His throat was already showing traces of purple bruising where B.A's strong fingers had closed around it.  
But the usually so powerful mechanic hadn't been strong enough to knock the man out entirely. Such a pity.  
Murdock held his breath as he, once more, stared into the pale eyes of his soon-to-be-killer.  
The villain was obviously done playing and more than ready to finish him off for good this time.  
All hope was leaving him, and Murdock suddenly felt sorry for stopping B.A from killing the man in the first place.

So much for mercy...eh? Maybe the team would have to change their policy after all...

"Goodbye, Mr. Murdock," Don wheezed hoarsely through gritted teeth.

Still sitting on his knees next to B.A's motionless body, Murdock sighed and closed his eyes in resignation.  
He felt too exhausted to even try anything anymore, and he simply waited for the blasting sound of the gun that would end his life. It grieved him that he hadn't been able to save his friend in the end, and he vaguely wondered if Face would take care of Billy for him.

Then a lot of unexpected sounds happened in quick succession!  
Instead of a BANG, there was a light whooshing sound, a loud metallic clatter, and an ear-piercing scream that made Murdock flinch.

"Don't even think about it, pal,"

That voice!  
Murdock's eyes flew open.  
Was that HANNIBAL?

In front of the pilot was a scene that he hadn't expected in his wildest dreams.  
In the door opening of the chamber stood the Colonel; strong, resolute and looking beyond furious.  
Don had fallen to his knees.  
White-faced, he was nursing a hand that was now sporting a dagger sticking through and through. Blood dripped along his wrist into the sleeve of his jacket. Don's eyes flicked from Hannibal, who was standing in the door opening of the chamber, to his gun that lay on the ground positioned right between him and his opponent. With a loud growl, he reached for it.

"Oh No you don't!"

Hannibal's trained reflexes kicked in as he angrily ran forward, planted his boot into the man's face and propelled him back to the floor. There was a sickening crunching sound. Don rolled to his side, clutching his nose with his uninjured hand while whimpering softly.  
Murdock looked up at Hannibal in surprise. Behind the sky blue eyes, he saw a blazing anger that made him shiver ever so slightly. There were only a few times he'd seen his commander 'this' angry before, and those moments were pretty rare.

Hannibal swiftly picked up the gun from the floor.  
From another corner, he picked up another gun and tossed it at his captain who barely managed to catch it.  
Then he turned around and crouched down beside Don to release the man from the dagger.  
Don yelped as the Colonel pried the weapon out of his bleeding hand, but Hannibal ignored it.

"Here, wrap it up," he said coldly, throwing the man a handkerchief.

He wiped off the blood of the dagger on his jeans and placed it back in its holder on his waist.  
Ashen-faced, Don did as he was told and covered up his injured hand with shaking fingers. His eyes, however, were murderous.  
When he was done, Hannibal produced a large tie-wrap from his jacket pocket and tied both hands unceremoniously behind Don's back.

"Now sit down and stay down!" Hannibal growled.

He took his gun from his holder and aimed it at the villain with a calm but piercing stare. Don complied reluctantly and sat down while scowling menacingly at Hannibal.

"You never gonna get out of here," Don snarled with curling lips. "It's already too late for Baracus. My boss will not rest until he gets the rest of you too..."

Hannibal's hands balled into fists. That was the last drop!  
Without a warning, he turned around and punched Don hard in the face. Don's head snapped back as he fell motionless to the floor right next to the other man.  
Hannibal cracked his knuckles while heaving a sigh of relief. The built-up anger he'd been carrying with him all this time was finally subsiding. The goon shouldn't have harmed his men...  
As he looked down coldly at the now blissfully oblivious villain, his eyes fell on the other unconscious figure on the floor and narrowed slightly.  
The man was bound and tied up with the string of a...

was that a yo-yo?

Hannibal finally turned around to face his team-mates and nodded pointedly at Hunter's yo-yo-ed hands.

"Your handiwork, captain?"

Murdock nodded and beamed at the colonel from his position on the floor. At this point, he'd been too dizzy to get up.

"Boy, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, sir," he said with renewed energy in his voice. "But where is the Faceman?"

"He's running some... errands," Hannibal said secretively while grinning his jazzy grin at Murdock.

"It's good to see you alive, son," he added while leaning forward and patting the lanky man warmly on the shoulder.

His eyes glanced over at B.A, and a frown appeared on his worried face as he saw the state of his sergeant. As he crouched down, he removed a glove from his hand and lay his palm on the big man's sweaty forehead.  
B.A was burning up.

"What's his status, Captain?"

Murdock hesitated, wondering how to give his commander a proper report.

"Well, he took one in the wing, so he's experiencing some serious wing flutter that was possibly followed by a wing collapse," Murdock said while looking down pensively at the sergeant. "And I fear his fuselage joint has a high-level infection. I don't think they'd given it proper maintenance."

Hannibal was almost afraid to ask: "You mean he's in a bad shape?"

"Affirmative, colonel" Murdock nodded

"Naturally," Hannibal sighed.

"And you?"

The colonel noticed that Murdock's face and clothes were covered in dirt and dust. He wondered what on earth had happened to him

"Oh, you know me... I'm all hunky-dory," Murdock lied.

He started fidgeting with his fingers as he tried to avoid the scrutinizing stare of his commander.  
But he hadn't fooled his commander. Hannibal could tell from the slightly slurred words that the captain wasn't in great shape either, although he was clearly lucent enough to hide it. Hannibal guessed the pilot was still running high on adrenaline.  
But if the fact that he still wasn't getting up from the floor was any indication, the thin line of blood running over his temple surely was. It seemed to originate from a wound under his baseball cap, which was now sporting a big darkening stain right above Murdock's right ear.

"Anyway," Murdock continued, eager to move on to another topic, "How are we gonna get the big guy out of here?"

"We'll just have to wait for Face and see if we can find a stretcher in this place. Or else we'll just fix one ourselves." Hannibal contemplated. "We need to carry B.A to the van and get him to a doctor asap."

Right that moment, they heard a flurry of hurried footsteps, and only a second later, three men entered the chamber.

"I don't think that will be necessary Mr. Smith." A deep voice said.

Hannibal and Murdock looked up in surprise.  
The voice belonged to a middle-aged greying man, wearing a white designer suit that was complimented with white matching loafers. However, even though his clothes looked expensive and stylish, the man had a rather withered look about him.  
He was accompanied by two bulky and armed henchmen.

"Oh, COME ON!" Murdock cried out in exasperation! "Did someone just open a can of bad guys, or what?! They just keep on comin' like germs!"

Hannibal slowly raised himself to his full length and aimed his gun at the men.

"Well, whaddayaknow" he said with a chuckle. "If it isn't Mr. Sartinaro,"

"I'm glad you remember me, Smith," Sartinaro said with a cold smile on his lips.

"Of course I do! 5 years ago, we wrapped up your drug business, exposed your murders, and finally got you behind bars too. Didn't you face lifetime imprisonment?"

Sartinaro glared at the colonel with a cold frosty stare.

"I got out earlier for good behavior," he smirked.

"And pulling the right strings with the right kind of people, no doubt..." Hannibal added knowingly.

"Then I guess I'm correct to assume that you know why you are here, Smith," Sartinaro spoke.

"I think I can make a fair guess, yes," Hannibal said calmly. "One word; revenge."

"That's correct," Sartinaro nodded.

"And if my men hadn't failed so disappointingly...," he paused to glare angrily at the two unconscious men on the floor, "I would've been talking to you in rather different circumstances.  
But no worries, I think I still have the upper hand,"

Sartinaro put his hands in his pockets while looking at Hannibal expectantly.

"Now where is your fourth man..."

Hannibal grinned, the jazz finally taking over.

"I'm so glad you asked," he beamed. "He's standing right behind you."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14 - Fight like a Dog

Hello hello. I hope you've had a superlovely time with family, friends or just your pet during the holidays.  
I found some time to write again and enjoyed it immensely after another hiatus.  
As always, thanks for your comments, reviews and remarks. I really hope I can still entertain you with my story.  
Here goes:

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Chapter 14 - Fight like a dog!

"Hiya Face," Hannibal grinned, sending a cheeky wave at his lieutenant. "How's things,"

"Not too shabby." came the reply.

The three crooks who were still standing in the doorway of the chamber jumped at the voice. Murdock turned his head expectantly toward the door opening.  
Sartinaro's expression changed from glee into one of shock as he and his two bodyguards whirled around to face a rather handsome man standing closely behind them. The man seemed cheerful as he pointed his shotgun at them.

"Pleased to meet you," Face said rather politely while stepping into the light with a blinding smile.

But even though he seemed pleased, his blue eyes didn't show any sign of amusement at all. They were cold and angry and never left the three men standing in front of him.

"You...," Sartinaro hissed as he recognized the conman.

"Yes, me!" Face replied dryly, his mocking smile fading quickly.

He was currently pointing the shotgun at the headman's heart while at the same time keeping an eye on the two bodyguards.

"Drop those weapons, or you'll be out of a job before you know it, he told the two giants quietly. His calm appearance was almost unnerving. They both looked questionably at their boss.

"Do it.." Sartinaro said with an angered voice as the two men grudgingly complied and threw their weapons to the floor.

" Good," Face said. "Now turn around with your hands in the air and move," he gestured them forward with a small movement of his shotgun.

Murdock, who'd been listening intently from the floor, whooped at these words.

"Now THAT's what I call an element of surprise!" he thought while grinning from ear to ear.

At least it had been better than 'his own' performance, which he thought had been a bit of a disappointment really.  
However, at the sound of Murdock's voice, Face's eyes instantly flicked away from his opponents to look into the room. Standing outside of the chamber, he hadn't known for sure if Murdock had been there, or if he was still alive at all. Hearing the unmistakable Murdock-whoop made his heart do a quick summersault, but his unattentiveness just lasted a second too long.  
Noticing Face's distraction, one of Sartinaro's bodyguards immediately lurched forward taking the conman by surprise. The man grappled his arms around the shotgun which caused Face to lose his balance. But the conman recovered quickly and he punched his elbow right into the man's nose. The crook swayed backward as he yelped in pain. Angered, and with blood running down his nostrils, he launched his fist at Face. The conman tried to dodge it but was too late. The blow in his stomach made him gasp for air. But he didn't give in and readied himself for another punch.  
Hannibal, in the meantime, hadn't been sitting still either. The moment the commotion started, he'd jumped onto the other bodyguard, treating him on a well-aimed punch in the teeth. But the man was taller then he was, and the blow didn't have the impact the colonel intended it to have.  
He too received a smack on the head, and slightly confused, he staggered backward. Both A-team members were now caught up in a fight with a man who was bigger and stronger than they were. Murdock looked helplessly as he tried to get up on his feet but instantly fell back down. The floor was too wobbly, and so were his legs.  
His eyes widened as he noticed Sartinaro making use of the distraction while the men were fighting each other tooth and nail. He didn't seem to consider Murdock nor B.A a threat while he feverishly searched the floor for a weapon. The guns had been kicked into different directions as they made contact with the stamping feet of the fighting men.  
Finally, the gang leader spotted a gun close to Murdock and reached for it. As he picked it up, he slowly aimed it at the group while squinting his eyes in excitement. A mean grin spread on his face as his fingers curled around the trigger. He was going to fire, and it didn't seem to matter to him if he was going to hit one of his own men or not.

"No...," Murdock groaned while inching himself forward on hands and knees.

Seeing that his friends were too distracted to notice and the fact that the big guy was still non-responsive made him wish Billy was here to help.

"What can I do?! What would Billy do?" he wondered.

Then it hit him. It was easy really. He was going to take a leaf out of Billy's book!  
With a growl that would've made his invisible dog proud, he lurched forward, grabbed one of Sartinaro's legs and bit him hard in the calf. The man screamed in both surprise and terror as he felt the clenching teeth in his leg and instinctively tried to kick Murdock away before aiming his gun at the pilot. But like a genuine dog, Murdock just wouldn't butch. Without drawing actual blood, he tore his way into the fabric with his teeth like a madman, his attempts amplified with angry growls and snarls. He needed to keep the man distracted as long as he could!  
Face, who'd seen Murdock move toward the mobster from the corner of his eyes urged himself to hurry up. With a mighty effort, he successfully planted the butt of his shotgun into the bodyguard's windpipe, making the man double forward with choking gasps.  
With one last blow, Face skillfully hit his opponent on the back of the head and the man crumpled to the floor.  
Trusting that Hannibal could hold his own, the lieutenant leaped over his victim and ran to the pilot's aid just as Murdock sank his teeth in the crook's leg again. The crook was screaming from the top of his lungs while whirling his pistol around at Murdock, desperate to get a good aim.  
Reaching the screaming and kicking Sartinaro, Face realized he was too close to shoot his gun. Instead, he raised his shotgun once more and gave the man a mighty whack to the head only a second before Sartinaro fired his gun at Murdock.  
Murdock yelped at the sound and let go of the leg. The bullet missed its target by mere inches and skidded over the floor right into a pile of moldy cardboard boxes. The fired weapon clattered onto the cold tiles as the villain lost his balance and hit the ground hard.

"Get him off of me! He's mad! He's RAVING MAD!" Sartinaro screamed as he furiously tried to crawl away from Murdock in a haze of confusion and fright.

"No worries," Hannibal said after finally flooring his opponent and coming to his friends' aid to tie Sartinaro's hands on his back, "He's been vaccinated against rabies. So _he_ should be fine."

Sartinaro didn't seem to appreciate Hannibal's sense of humor and yelled even harder.

"He should be PUT DOWN like the deranged lunatic he is!"

*WHACK*

There was no time for Sartinaro to regret his words as Hannibal punched the man square in the face and straight into oblivion.

"Nobody speaks about my men like that," he said simply while dusting off his gloved hands for good measure.

Noting that his commander had the situation fully under control, Face shouldered his shotgun and kneeled down in front of his friend while anxiously grabbing his shoulders.

"Murdock! Murdock, are you alright?!"

But Murdock didn't seem to hear him. He sat hunched down on hands and knees, still growling quietly while spitting out bits of fabric with an expression of clear disgust on his face. He wiped his mouth vigorously while trying to calm down his breathing. Maybe impersonating Billy hadn't been such a good idea after all. His head was pounding and buzzing like there was a stampede of crazy buffalos running around, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he was sure the floor was trying to pull him into a whirlpool of blackness.

"Murdock? Please be okay. Can you hear me?"

But the dazed pilot still didn't seem to register anything around him.  
Feeling desperate, the conman just couldn't help himself and wrapped both arms around his friend's shoulders in a tight embrace. For a moment, he felt Murdock's body startle, but then the lanky man relaxed and gradually leaned into him. Face heard a quiet sob and patted his friend nervously on the back not knowing how welcoming and overwhelming this sudden gesture of kindness was to the pilot. Without realizing it, recognition through the simple smell of his expensive suit and fading cologne brought Murdock back to reality. It was currently as comforting as the soft jingle of B.A's jewelry or the smoke of Hannibal's Cuban cigars would've been.

Still holding on to his friend, the conman looked over at Hannibal who had started gathering and moving the unconscious crooks around the chamber.  
For a brief moment, they locked eyes and Hannibal nodded at his lieutenant before he started tying up the group of criminals with the large tie wraps he'd brought along.  
They didn't need words to know what their next move would be. The commander could see that Face was holding onto Murdock for dear life, and he was going to give him that moment. Especially since he knew how worried the kid had been when they'd assumed him dead.  
Meanwhile, Murdock was fighting to stay alert. But it was getting harder and harder.  
The team was complete now, and all he could feel was the sense of relief and happiness filling his heart. But there was a darkness closing in on him too as fatigue was taking its toll. Murdock grimaced slightly while his face rested against his friend's shoulder. It was 'so' tempting to just give in and let the world of oblivion dissolve him. But shouldn't he fight it? Didn't they need him awake?  
He'd managed to track down B.A like a real sleuth. And in turn, Faceman and Hannibal had miraculously located the two of them as well! The team was complete, so it was all gonna be okay again. But deep down, he knew they weren't exactly out of trouble yet.  
B.A still needed to get to a hospital and fast! And they really needed to get out of this place... but...  
...He just felt SO tired.

"Hey hey, Stay with me buddy," He heard Face's worried voice from far away.

Still holding on to his friend, Face noticed how Murdock's body started to lean heavier on him. He looked alarmed as he gently shook the pilot awake.  
Hearing Face's voice helped. Murdock's mind grasped at it as if it was a lifeline. He swallowed hard as he struggled his way out of the darkness and forced himself to open his eyes.

"I'm up, Faceman," he mumbled as he tried gathering his thoughts.

Without letting go, Face gently pushed Murdock out of his embrace to have a better look at him. He had been beyond relieved to find him alive but something wasn't right. What on earth could've happened to his friend who seemed to be covered all-over in dirt, cobwebs, and clumps of dust? Sitting face to face, the conman tried to make a quick assessment of the pilot's condition. For the first time, he noticed a thin line of dried blood that had trickled down Murdock's right temple from under his baseball cap.  
Checking Murdock's eyes, he discerned they looked bloodshot and unfocused. And even though it was hard to see due to the lack of light in the room, the conman was sure that the pupils were dilated too. Face cursed inwardly. There was at least a bad concussion going on, and a head wound that needed to be looked at...

Starting to feel uneasy under his friend's scrutiny, Murdock looked away and followed a tiny spider that was scurrying over Faceman's shoulder. He felt a tinge of guilt as he noted how his friend's suit seemed dirty from their embrace.

"I'm okay," he mumbled while turning away from the conman and looking at B.A in concern. "Better have a look at our big guy here. He's much worse!"

Face nodded and let go of the pilot. He quickly knelt down beside the unconscious B.A and checked his pulse. His frown deepened as he felt the coldness of B.A's hands and noticed the infected leg and arm injury. While Face felt B.A's forehead, Murdock crawled closer and tried to nudge their friend awake. There was no response. This was bad.

"Hannibal, I saw a small medical center in this building, not far from the basement. I'm going to check if they have anything helpful that we can use to transport B.A with.  
The state he's in, I don't think it's wise to drag him around too much."

Hannibal agreed but Murdock looked at his best friend with a frightened expression on his face. He didn't want him to leave already! Not now the team was finally together.  
As if Face knew what was playing inside Murdock's head he gave the pilot a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before getting up.

"I'll be back before you know it," he reassured him before hurrying out of the chamber and leaving the three men alone.

Murdock frowned at his unconscious friend, trying to focus on the situation at hand. The big guy needed medical attention ASAP but there wasn't anything he could do for him right now. Then he looked around the room and noticed how Hannibal was still busy tying and securing the crooks. But there were still weapons everywhere on the ground. So sloppy...  
He should help his commander to speed things up.

"Hold on there, oh Baracan one," he mumbled. "I'll be right back. Gotta help our Colonel a little,"

Exhaling long and low, he gathered his strength and to his own surprise, managed to push himself off the ground again.  
Maybe B.A's condition had given him new strength, or perhaps it was the risk of getting a case of butt freeze from the cold floor that kept him going. Whatever it was, he knew he needed to do something. Slowly but deliberately, Murdock started picking up the guns. The least he could do was making sure they were out of harm's way. He even found his flashlight and pocket knife and plucked them from the floor as well.  
Hannibal looked up from his work.

"How's B.A doing?"

"Not good, boss," was the answer that was filled with worry..

Hannibal expression hardened as he cast a quick glance at his sergeant. He had to hurry.  
He turned around to have a look at his workmanship. Regardless the circumstances, he had to admit it kinda looked like a work of art, even if he said so himself. All unconscious men, including Sartinaro, were now sitting slumped down in a circle with their backs leaning against each other. Each of them had their hands and feet bound together while being connected to their partners with even more tie wraps. Some of them started to wake up and sluggishly looked around. One of them, the rogue who'd received a dagger in his hand, even tried to move his arms, but so far his attempts were fruitless. If the crooks wanted to get up, they would have to move as a unit and seeing the state some of them were in, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Nice work, col'nel," Murdock said appreciatively as Hannibal double-checked every tie-wrap for good measure.

"Gee, thanks Murdock!" Hannibal smiled despite himself.

"Don't think I won't be getting out of here, Smith," an angry voice snarled from the floor.

Hannibal and Murdock looked down at Sartinaro who'd finally gained consciousness and was now glaring up at the A-team members from his awkward position. His expression was one of pure hatred.

"I'll hunt you and your dear A-team down until I've destroyed each and every one of you, even if it's the last thing I do!"

Hannibal folded his arms and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"So... How many men do you think you'll need to get that job done?" he scoffed. "Seems to me that they can't even tie their own shoelaces if they wanted to. What makes you think they can do it next time?"

"Those morons are disposable," Sartinaro answered coldly. "Next time I will screen them more thoroughly, you can count on that. No more low-brained shoplifters or psychopathic murderers. These men have proved themselves useless. I guess I will have to take care of them later..."

At this, Don pricked up his ears and slowly turned his head at his boss with a look of disbelief and anger on his face.  
Oblivious to the building disgust of his right-hand assistant, Sartinaro went on.

"But mark my words, Smith. The moment I get out of this situation. I will haunt you. No judge, no prison, no authorities can stop me. And next time I won't be so soft on you. You won't see me coming and you will always have to watch your backs until it drives you mad.  
I will squeeze the four of you into pulp. You can count on it."

Murdock's face darkened dangerously, and before Hannibal had time to come back with one of his witty remarks he let go of the weapons and surged forward. His Swiss army knife flicked open revealing a sharp blade of steel. Within a second, it found its way to the villain's throat while the pilot's other hand grabbed Sartinaro's necktie and pulled the man closer to his face. Almost nose to nose now, the evil man looked nervously into Murdock's blazing black eyes that had lost all kindness and seemed ready to kill.

"You'll leave my friends alone, or I'll turn you into a bag of spinach-flavored dog biscuits!" he snarled, sounding out of breath. "Nobody likes spinach-flavored dog biscuits..."

The crook chuckled coldly.

"You're not going to kill me," he said more bravely than he actually felt. "That's not what the A-team does. You'll just run like you always do. But I'll find you again. I just need to spread the word."

"Then I'll make sure you'll never say a word again!" Murdock growled.

Sartinaro's eyes widened, wondering if he'd gone too far.

"Murdock!" Hannibal shouted in alarm, but the pilot ignored him.

His knife swished and with a swift movement, he cut off the crook's necktie and pushed its remains unceremoniously into the man's protesting mouth.  
Sartinaro made a gagging sound as Murdock slowly rose back to his feet. Hannibal exhaled slowly in relief but couldn't prevent a chuckle as the pilot pocketed his knife and turned around to face him.

"Colonel, I er... I just umm...," He stammered, looking disorientated while swaying dangerously on his feet.

"sit right here...," he decided while his knees buckled.

Hannibal was just in time to catch the pilot and help him to the ground. Murdock huffed as he raised his knees and rested his head on his forearms while the colonel rubbed his back to keep the man grounded.

"Easy captain. That's about enough excitement for today!"

Murdock nodded silently. He really had to agree on that matter.

At that same moment, Face entered the room with an old rickety wheelchair. Its rubber tires were almost gone but it would at least help them transport the heavy sergeant more swiftly to the van.

"Do we leave those guns here on the floor?" he asked, looking at the weapons that lay spread on the tiles again.

"Hang on," Hannibal said as he quickly gathered them and stepped outside the chamber.

Looking around, he spotted the perfect place to get rid of the weapons. He walked toward it and dropped the guns right into a deep pit that looked like it was once used as some sort of garbage disposal.

"They won't be needing them anymore..." he said matter-of-factly to a surprised Face as he re-entered the chamber.

Then, as one man, Hannibal and Face carefully lifted the unconscious B.A onto the wheelchair. Checking on his friend with eyes that betrayed a deep concern, Hannibal put B.A's feet onto the footrests while Murdock sat waiting on the floor with a vacant expression on his face.  
Without waking up, B.A's head lolled forward onto his chest. Hannibal noticed that the sergeant still didn't show any sign of consciousness which worried him a lot more than he let on

"Did you call them?" He asked his lieutenant.

"They're on their way," Face acknowledged, sounding slightly reserved.

"Good..." Hannibal nodded.

Looking the conman firmly in the eye, he added: "It's really the best solution, Face."

Face, who avoided Hannibal's gaze, shrugged. "If you say so,"

"Get B.A to the stairs and wait for us. I'll take Murdock," Hannibal instructed as he bent down to help Murdock back to his feet.

He didn't have time to go into a debate with his lieutenant whether calling the cops or dealing with the crooks themselves was the best option or not. In the end, Hannibal had the final say in the matter, and he'd decided that it would be best if the authorities dealt with the group of thugs. Right now, taking care of their wounded friends had his priority.  
Nevertheless, seen the circumstances and Sartinaro's most recent threats, he suddenly wasn't so sure that the system was going to work this time. Maybe Sartinaro was indeed capable of finding another way out and if that was the case, he would most definitely be on their tails again.  
But that was a worry he would have to deal with later.

"Up you go, Captain,"

Face shot Sartinaro and his men one last resentful look before steering the wheelchair with its heavy load toward the cellar's exit. No more time to waste!  
They would have to carry the bulky sergeant up the stairs before putting him back into the wheelchair again.

While supporting the pilot, Hannibal turned around one more time to face the crooks.  
Still gagged with his own necktie, Sartinaro glared at him in silence.  
If only looks could kill...

"You're lucky you know," Hannibal said with a cold twinkle in his steel-blue eyes.

"We're leaving you here for the authorities to find. They received an anonymous tip about a big drugs-operation at this exact location, and they're on their way right as we speak.  
But to be honest with you, I'm kinda hoping that they'll forget to check the basement. Part of me is begging me to leave you to your fate and let you rot in hell."

At the slightly worried look on Sartinaro's face, Hannibal added: "Like I said... you're one lucky sleazeball,"

Hannibal then moved away from the scumbags. He slammed the chamber door shut with a kick of his boot, and locked it securely with his free hand. Then he quickly guided Murdock out of the damp and cold corridor to join the rest of the team. As he sat the weary pilot down to help Face carrying B.A up the stairs, Murdock suddenly stiffened.

"The guy... in the drugs room!" he said. "There is one more guy..."

"Already taken care of, buddy," Face replied while groaning a little under the weight of the heavy sergeant.

Murdock sighed in relief.  
A few moments later, the four made their way through the building as fast as they could. But their progress was agonizing and slow. Face had a hard time pushing B.A forward in a wheelchair that was almost too old and rusty to carry his weight, and Hannibal had to use his free hand to keep the slumped down sergeant in a sitting position while simultaneously trying to support the weary captain on his other shoulder.  
Nevertheless, they marched on until they finally reached the exit doors of the old building. Stepping outside, the cool breeze and the blinding light of the sun dazzled them all. In the far distance, they could hear sirens approaching.

"Wait here!" Face said as he promptly parked the wheelchair on the crooked pavement and made a dash to the side of the building.

There was a roar of an engine, and an old pickup truck sped around the corner. Face parked it in front of his friends and stepped out to help Hannibal opening the hatch. With their combined effort, they lifted B.A in the back of the truck. Murdock climbed in and settled down next to the sergeant, making sure to keep his body steady during the ride.

"Captain, can you tell us where the van is?" Hannibal inquired with urgency in his voice. Murdock had to wrack his tired brain for a second.

"Er...Yes...Have you seen those old sheds on your way here?" He answered as quick as he could. "I've hidden it behind the one that's situated next to that farm house over there that has no roof." He pointed at the old ruins that were situated close to their current location.

"Perfect..."

Hannibal closed the hatch and hurried to the front cabin to transfer the directions to his lieutenant who'd already started the engine. The clock was ticking as the sound of the sirens were getting dangerously close! Face hit the gas and sped down the road as fast as he dared with the two injured men in the back.

As they closed in on the buildings, Murdock yelled: "Make a left here!" over the roaring engine. Face heard him and turned the corner only a moment before the law enforcers were getting into view. Hoping they'd gone unnoticed, Face directed the pickup toward the half-collapsed shed and whooped as he spotted the van. The old buildings and scraggly old bushes conveniently hid them from view while the police cars rushed by into the direction of the old visitor's center with wailing sirens.

Face parked the pickup truck next to their trusty old GMC and leaped out to remove the few branches that Murdock had used to conceal it. He opened the back doors, then rushed back to help Hannibal carry B.A inside the van and lay him down onto the floor in the back. Looking at the sergeant's paled features, he just hoped they hadn't moved him around too much.  
While Hannibal helped Murdock into the van, Face suddenly noticed the broken-off antenna. So that's why they hadn't been able to communicate with their friends. He cursed and helplessly looked around. They really needed to be able to use their car phone. Then he remembered that the pick-up truck was equipped with a phone too and it had a similar-looking antenna. A wild idea came to mind and Face moved quickly. The van's antenna was only missing its top part but the base seemed to be fine. The conman wasn't exactly technical skilled but knew he had to try out his theory. Testing his luck, he hurried toward the pickup and untwisted the top segment of its antenna before hurrying back to the van. Standing inside the door opening of the driver's seat, he reached over the roof for the broken part oft he receiver, removed it, and replaced it with the new part. To his amazement it fit! Stupid luck!

"Smart thinking, Face," Hannibal said admiringly as he realized what the lieutenant was doing.

"We'll have to see if it works first," Face said not sounding very convinced.

"No time to worry about it now," Hannibal said. "Let's step on it, lieutenant!"

As the colonel closed the back doors, Face jumped behind the wheel and started the engine. Hitting the gas pedal, they finally sped away from the wretched place as fast as they could. Face could still hear the sirens at the mining buildings but knew the police would be too preoccupied to notice them going down the road. As the distance between the A-team and the Silver Creek ghost town grew, a burning silence fell over the van.  
Murdock clumsily lowered himself beside the unconscious B.A while Hannibal rummaged through the first aid kit for antiseptics, bandages and a pair of scissors.  
It was a long shot, but maybe not too late to do something. He used the scissors to cut away the entire pants leg to reveal the infected leg wound and winced at the sight of it. He was almost glad that the sergeant was unconscious as he knew it must've been hurting like hell.

"Hold on, B.A," he mumbled under his breath while trying his best to work on the wound.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the pilot taking off his jacket and folding it underneath B.A's head with shaking hands. He noticed Murdock's pale feverish complexion and heavily-lidded eyes. The pilot was clearly reaching his limit too.

"How're you doing, captain?" he asked while bandaging B.A's leg to prevent further damage.

"Aw you know me, col'nel. I'm pert as a cricket..." Murdock replied while leaning back against the side of the van. "safe as granny's snuff box..." he added faintly, not moving his eyes away from B.A.

The colonel frowned worriedly as he discerned a slight slur in the man's speech. He needed a new plan and fast! Ready to put his lieutenants' remarkable foresight to a test, he stood up and made his way to his usual front seat to pick up the car phone. Hannibal sighed in relief when he heard a signal that indicated it was actually working! Showing a thumbs up at his lieutenant he dialed a number.

"Who're you gonna call?" Face asked as they were quickly approaching the freeway.

"Ghostbusters," came a thin voice from the back.

Face winced.

"At least he didn't lose his sense of humor, huh?" he muttered as Hannibal listened impatiently to the waiting tone.

"I'm calling Maggie," Hannibal answered, hoping with all his might that she was home.

"Maggie? But Bad Rock is about a day's drive from here! B.A might not make it that far!" Face exclaimed.

"We're not going to see her, lieutenant," Hannibal said impatiently.

There was a click on the other line.

"Ah, Maggie?," He quickly said as his heart almost made a summersault at hearing the female voice answering the phone.

"I need your help. We have two injured men here.  
Please tell me if you know a doctor around this area who we can trust to help us! We're in Utah near Salt Lake City!"

Hannibal bit his lip in anticipation as he listened to the soft voice on the other end of the line.  
Please let her be able to help!

TBC


	15. Chapter 15 - Finding Help

Thnx for the kind reviews and I hope you like this update!

* * *

Chapter 15 - Finding Help

"How much further do you think it is Colonel?" Face asked, tapping his fingers irritably on the steering wheel while changing lanes on the highway they were on.

After Hannibal's call, they'd been driving through the area for at least half an hour or maybe more. Maggie had given Hannibal some directions, but since they weren't too familiar with the roads, it had proven to be quite the challenge to make a beeline to the hospital. And to Face's utter frustration, they'd taken a wrong turn and had to retrace their steps which caused them losing precious time.  
But finally, ... finally! they found the correct road and seemed to be heading in the right direction now.

"What was it called again? The Jones Clinic?"

"Yes, Jones Clinic," Hannibal acknowledged while studiously comparing his notes with the roadmap that lay unfolded on his knees.

"It shouldn't be too far from here, and its location should be indicated down the road with some road signs at some point," Hannibal went on.

"According to Maggie, the Clinic is owned by one of her old friends and colleagues. The lady runs it herself, and I understand she's also a 'Nam war veteran. They were working shoulder to shoulder back in the day. Apparently, she took over the clinic from her father after he passed away."

"Did Maggie warn her that we're coming?" Face asked. "Because if she didn't... Well, I guess we'll make quite the entrance."

"She did," Hannibal reassured the conman. "Take a left here, Face."

As Face followed the bend in the road, he started to realize it had been rather quiet in the back of the van for some time.

"You're still okay there, buddy?" he asked while checking the rear-view mirror.

 _When was the last time he heard the pilot talking? Didn't he hear him mumble to B.A for a while?  
_  
As he tried to peek at the van's back-interior, all he could see was part of B.A's still body lying on the van's carpet floor. Someone, probably Murdock, had covered him up with an old fleece blanket that must've been laying around somewhere. The bulky sergeant had been unconscious ever since they'd found him which worried Face more than he wanted to admit.  
Murdock had assured him that he'd talked with the big guy in that horrible chamber right before the man collapsed. But he'd already found him in a delirious state when he did, apparently frightened out of his wits because of some really bad hallucinations.  
That surprised Face a little, and he wondered what kind of dreams could possibly scare a strong and down to earth man like Bosco Baracus? He always assumed that the scowling mechanic wasn't scared of anything, except maybe flying. But Murdock had been very vague about the details and didn't want to say more.  
During their trip Face had been keen on talking to Murdock to keep him aware and awake. He'd noticed that the pilot was having more and more trouble to focus and form intelligible sentences. With every new question Face asked, the answers seemed to decrease in length.  
If he could've, Face would be sitting in the back keeping a watchful eye over both his friends. But right now, he was the driver of the van, and finding the clinic was momentarily his main priority.

"Murdock?" Face tried again, starting to feel uneasy.

Maybe his friend didn't hear him over the van's engine?

Glancing into the rear-view mirror again, Face tried to get a glimpse of the lanky man. But the backseats completely concealed Murdock's skinny frame from view.

"Hannibal, it's awfully quiet down there," Face spoke rather urgently. Trepidation slowly crept over him as the pilot stayed silent.

Hannibal who'd been pre-occupied with the road signs looked up with a start and quickly turned around in his chair.

"How're you doing back there, Murdock?" he asked with his commanding voice.

He too couldn't see the pilot who was sitting behind one of the back seats that was situated right behind the passenger's seat.  
There was no reply.  
Hannibal exchanged a worried look with the conman before dropping the roadmap and notes to the floor and making his way to the back of the van. He glanced worriedly at B.A (who looked very haggard) before peering around the corner of the backseat.  
There he found Murdock sitting slumped down, leaning heavily against the chair with his chin resting on his chest. His face was half-hidden under the shadow of his baseball cap, and his arms hung limply along his sides, one hand still holding B.A's.

"Captain?"

Hannibal nudged him gently, but there was no response. The older man carefully crouched down to have a look at the pilot's face.  
Murdock's eyes were closed, and to his dismay, Hannibal noticed a fresh line of blood running down the man's temple and down his cheek. He also observed the dark bruising around the pilot's right ear which he hadn't noticed before in the dim-lit chamber.

"Murdock?" Hannibal tried again as he tapped Murdock's cheek to try and wake him. But besides a small frown forming on his brow, there was no acknowledgment that he was there.

Murdock's face was pale, but to his relief, Hannibal noticed that his breathing wasn't labored, and his pulse seemed okay too. Maybe a bit higher than average, but nothing scary.

"What's wrong?" Face said, trying to hide a hint of fear from his voice.

"Is he okay?"

Hannibal looked around at the conman who glanced at him from the rear-view mirror. As their eyes met, Face already knew the score. Time was of the essence.

"Just step on it," Hannibal said, avoiding the question.

"You should see a Wendy's restaurant soon. If you do, take a right turn, then get to the Sunrise Blvd and follow it for another 9 miles. From there, you should see a road sign that will lead us to the Jones clinic at some point. I'll be with you in a sec."

Like Murdock had done for B.A, the colonel took off his light-grey jacket and folded it up as a substitute pillow.  
Then he snaked an arm behind Murdock's back, and carefully lowered the man to the ground, placing him on his side next to B.A in a recovery position.  
Even though the van was warm inside from standing in the sun all morning, the pilot's arms felt chilly as he was only wearing his 'Have you seen my marbles' t-shirt now. Hannibal grabbed part of the blanket that was covering B.A and pulled it over the captain to cover him up as well.  
For a moment he'd considered removing Murdock's hat but then decided against it. It looked like the baseball cap had been covering the head wound for some time now, and he was afraid that removing it would make the bleeding worse.  
Suddenly Murdock made a small sound, and his features pinched at being moved. As his eyes fluttered open, Hannibal bent over the injured man with a hopeful look on his face. But Murdock's gaze seemed glazed and unfocused.

"How are you feeling, captain?"

A painful grimace appeared on Murdock's face as he seemed to contemplate the answer. His eyes moved slowly toward the sound of Hannibal's voice, but his only response was a soft sigh as his eyelids drooped and closed again.  
Hannibal cursed under his breath, hating this powerless feeling that was consuming him. He hated not being in control of things, and this was a situation he certainly didn't have under control right now. B.A wouldn't wake up and Murdock was suddenly doing worse!  
He quickly checked on B.A again, wishing he could do more for both of his men and noticed that the bulky sergeant had stopped sweating. That couldn't be a good sign either. Possibly dehydration, Hannibal guessed.  
With clenched jaws, the colonel got up and made his way back to the front seat.

"How're they doing?" Face asked, even though he could sort of guess the answer already.

"Not good... If we find the clinic now, it can't be soon enough."

Face searched the road, eager to find any sign of the clinic.  
An almost palpable silence seemed to descend over the van and its passengers as they drove on.

Then suddenly:

"There! It looks like our prayers have been answered," Face exclaimed while pointing at the first road sign with directions to the clinic.

"Finally!"

Hannibal grabbed the car phone and dialed a number from his notes.  
At Face's questioning glance, he explained: "I'm going to let Miss Jones know we're coming. Maggie gave me this number to call if we were almost there. We should meet her at the back of the building."

* * *

" _There must be a way out of here."_

That's what B.A had been thinking for the last couple of minutes...or hours. Or perhaps days? By now, he'd lost all sense of time, though it didn't really seem to make any difference in this gloomy place he'd been residing in. He wasn't even sure _where_ he was, though in some ways it felt familiar as if maybe, just maybe, the place was 'part' of him. He couldn't put his finger on it.  
B.A had been wandering around with a weird feeling of foreboding that he shouldn't be here, wherever ' _here_ ' was. And everything about him seemed slow and dulled down.

However, it wasn't all that bad. His pain had subsided a fair bit compared to the agony he'd been in. It suddenly seemed manageable, and for a short while, he'd forgotten about his worries. His whole body had been burning in agony as if it had been on fire. And even though the muscular man had built up a rather high tolerance for pain over the years, there still was only so much he could take. So for now, he simply enjoyed the small grace of being numbed-down and the calmness that accompanied it.  
But he wasn't exactly alone...  
There were sounds...and voices... The bulky mechanic was vaguely aware of people moving around him, though he couldn't actually see them in the semi-darkness. There was talking, shouting, even screaming. A cry of pain, angry voices, growling like a dog, and then a gunshot!  
Suddenly all the feelings returned, and B.A wanted to know what was going on! He wanted to help! But whatever he did, there was no way of finding out. B.A felt as if his whole body was weighed down. Even moving his fingertips seemed near impossible. It was like walking through a thick patch of quicksand. And it didn't help that it felt as if he was sinking a little bit lower with every step he tried to make.  
Random memories slowly seemed to come back to him. There was something important... but what?

Fortunately, at some point, the chaos around him subsided and was replaced with quietly muttering voices and the familiar sounds of the van's engine that immediately eased B.A's troubled mind. He was so cold and the darkness was getting deeper. His worries and emotions gradually receded in the shadows of his own mind again, and it felt peaceful.  
Most of the time, the words he heard were incomprehensible, though sometimes he caught some of them loud and clear.  
B.A thought he'd recognized the voices. His teammates? But if they were, why did he think he also heard the voice of his crazy friend? His friend who died?

"Wake up, Big Fella," was something he'd heard a couple of times, though the voice that spoke the words had sounded strained and subdued.

"Open those shutters 'nd ... show me those ... pretty peepers of yours."

That sounded exactly like something Murdock would say  
But how could it be Murdock? B.A thought.  
The odds of surviving had been _so_ strongly against the crazy pilot that B.A just couldn't believe that his friend was alive. He felt a jerk of sadness in his heart as he remembered the lanky man getting shot and falling to the ground like a ragdoll. It angered B.A beyond his wits. But whoever was talking to him right now, it couldn't possibly be Murdock.

"Come on B.A. Please do it for good ol' Murdock?" the voice then pleaded.

Or could it?  
With a hint of hope, B.A desperately tried to pry his eyes open. To move his limbs. He tried to cling on to Murdock's voice, but his body protested every attempt as the darkness in his mind started to get thicker.  
To his dismay, the voice started to slow down and eventually stopped talking, leaving B.A alone in the foreboding shadows of his own mind.

"Please talk to me..." he pleaded silently.

But the voice didn't return.  
A feeling of loneliness washed over him, as he gradually slipped further into the pool of darkness that dulled all of his senses.

* * *

As the A-team finally arrived at the clinic, a small dark-skinned and rather busty lady in her late forties stood there waiting for them with her hands stuck deep in the pockets of her white doctor's coat. She was standing near the back-exit of the clinic, a big white-walled concrete building with tall windows, and was accompanied by two male orderlies. Both men looked burly and were standing by with a gurney.  
As Face approached the back entrance of the building, his eyes instinctively performed a quick evaluation of their surroundings.  
Part of the space was asphalted, and close to the clinic stood a small generator building and a cluster of trees that looked like the perfect place to park the van out of sight.  
Face supposed that the big parking lot he'd just entered was normally used for the loading and unloading of trucks with food and medical supplies.  
Even before the conman had brought the van to a complete stop, Hannibal barged open the passenger's door and hopped out in a hurry to meet the lady.  
Doctor Jones stepped forward as Hannibal approached her with a quick pace in his step.

"Mr. Smith I assume? You can explain everything later," Dr. Jones said firmly while shaking Hannibal's hand. "Carice Jones."

Hannibal noticed that the lady had a rather firm grip. His first impression of her was a strong-willed individual who didn't take no for an answer. He wasn't sure why, but he liked her immediately.

"Let's take care of your injured friends first, shall we?"

Face who'd hurried out of the van as well, quickly opened the sliding and back doors of the black vehicle.

"We believe that B.A - that's the big man with the gold there - is the most critical of the two," Hannibal said quickly. "He's grazed in his upper arm, and his leg is infected real bad,"

Dr. Jones nodded her understanding, stepped in, and made a quick assessment of the situation.  
As she looked at B.A and took his vital signs, she frowned. His heart rate was way too high.

"How long has he been unconscious?"

Hannibal hesitated.

"We don't know exactly, but maybe an hour?"

The female doctor nodded with a grim expression on her face. Then she quickly checked on Murdock.

"And him?"

"10, maybe 20 minutes," Face answered. "He has a bad head injury, and I think it was hurting him more than he let on. I kept him talking to keep him awake until we took a wrong turn and..."

He trailed off, feeling guilty and stupid.

Dr. Jones stood up resolutely and gestured the orderlies to help her get both men on a gurney. The two skilled assistants moved swiftly, and within minutes both B.A and Murdock were strapped down and on their way into the building. The doctor and Hannibal followed closely, but Face stood frozen on the spot.  
Hannibal, noticing that Face wasn't walking in his footsteps, peered around at the conman.

"Coming lieutenant?"

It looked as if Face startled out of some deep thoughts.

"Eh...You go with them, Colonel. I'll hide the van first," Face replied promptly.

Without waiting for a response, he turned around on his heels and quickly closed the van doors, though perhaps a little bit too hard. Then he hopped into the driver's seat and navigated the van toward the generator's building where he hid it behind the cluster of trees and out of sight.  
The tall trees were casting dark shadows over the van. They seemed to be absorbing the light on the inside of its interior, giving it a gloomy and rather depressing character. It perfectly reflected the way the conman was currently feeling.  
As Face turned off the engine for the second time, he leaned forward and banged his head angrily on the steering wheel.  
He wanted to scream out all the frustration and angst he'd been building up during the last 1,5 day. But instead, he bit his tongue and hit the steering wheel one more time with his fists before settling back into his seat. The conman was panting a little and looked utterly furious. He vigorously tried to rub away a dried-up bloodstain on the sleeve of his blazer. He must've attained it from Murdock when he embraced his friend at the sight of seeing him alive.  
Noting that rubbing at the maroon colored smear had no effect at all, Face stopped his actions and settled down with an angry grimace.  
While steadying his breathing, he carefully flattened his hair to make himself look somewhat more presentable like the conman he was. Even to his team, he sometimes felt the need to show his poker face once in a while. He didn't want to show off as weak, or incapable of handling these kinds of situations. But it was all so very frustrating!  
Face couldn't help but blame himself for the ordeal that his friends had gone through within the last 12 hours. What if he'd listened to Murdock when the man was clearly asking for help? What if he'd picked up the signals sooner. Could he have prevented it all? Would they have noticed the bad guys earlier?  
Why did Face just wave away Murdock's fears as his usual antics? He should've known better, or should he?  
During their pursuit, Hannibal had told him repeatedly that it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't have known. But Face's feelings were contradicting that fact. He felt guilty as hell.  
If it had been up to him, he'd sent a bullet straight into Sartinaro's head without a blink of the eye. But Face had been acting on principles that were basically the fundaments of the A-team. The number one rule was that they wouldn't kill a soul if they didn't have to... no matter if that person was guilty or not.  
Hannibal's orders had been very clear about their mission. Finding their friends and getting them back to safety had been their main priority.  
They were going to have the cops round up the bad guys and (hopefully) bring them to justice. They'd practically handed those thugs over on a silver plate.  
But it sure had been beyond tempting to pull that trigger the moment that Face stood eye to eye with that monster.  
It could've been sooo easy...  
But the conman reluctantly had to admit that he'd done the right thing after all. And he knew Murdock cared very much about their basic rule...

Face wearily rubbed his eyes with one hand and exhaled slowly. Time to join the guys.  
He quickly searched the van and found Murdock's meds in the ugly lady bag he'd sent the pilot a while ago. It still contained that old lady disguise he'd carefully put together for his friend. Apparently, it had worked. A wan smile appeared on his lips. He would've loved seeing Murdock in that dress for good laughs.

Just to be sure he didn't forget anything, Face then rummaged through the dashboard and to his surprise he found a weird object that sort of looked like a joystick. With a curious expression, he examined the device, noting all the buttons and (most of all) the small camera display. His hand instinctively reached out to the buttons. He hesitated for a split second, then pressed 'rewind' and 'play'...  
As the little black and white video started and showed its gruesome contents, the conman's eyes widened in disbelief and horror.

A few minutes later, Face stepped out of the van while straightening his blazer as he did. To an outsider, he would seem calm and confident on the surface. But inside, he was fuming. After having watched most of the video that the van's camera had made of Murdock's execution and B.A's battle, his mind was whirring. Sartinaro and his men shouldn't get away unpunished. Jail was _way_ too good for those bastards. He desperately wanted to find a way to take revenge on the bad guys.  
Maybe he could persuade Hannibal to form a plan.  
But first things first. He really needed to be with his team right now.  
With a look of determination, Face entered the clinic in search of his friends.

* * *

Hannibal crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the room while gritting his teeth.  
Gosh, how he hated this waiting... this uncertainty. He wanted to help but knew he would more likely be a hindrance if he did.  
The orderlies had rolled B.A and Murdock into the small but well-equipped emergency room of the clinic.  
After receiving both Maggie's and Hannibal's call, Dr. Jones had provided the room with all the necessities to examine the injured men discretely with a small team of nurses whom she trusted to keep a secret.  
The colonel stood in the farthest corner next to a cabinet trying hard to stay out of everyone's way while letting the doctor and her nurses determine the damage that had been done to his boys.

Dr. Jones who was working on B.A quickly tended to his arm wound and checked his vitals. She frowned deeply while examining the infected stab wound in his leg and talked quietly to one of the nurses while setting up an IV cannula to connect the muscled man to fluids and antibiotics. The nurse had, to her annoyance, been rather occupied removing all the gold from the big man's neck to ease his breathing.  
With a clattering sound, she'd dropped the jewelry unceremoniously in a clean metallic emesis basin in lack of a better place to store it for the time being. Then she placed an oxygen mask over B.A's gaunt face and struggled to strap a blood pressure cuff around his huge muscled arm.  
Hannibal, who sort of expected alarm bells to go off after seeing all the gold removed, watched the scene from a distance and realized how bad his sergeant must be doing if even removing his precious jewelry didn't wake him up.  
Hannibal's gaze lingered from one man to the other. A second nurse was working on Murdock while carefully removing his hat.  
The Colonel winced involuntarily as it revealed the ugly gash right above his ear. Murdock's hair and part of his head seemed to be caked with dried up blood.  
Immediately after the removal of the baseball cap, the wound started bleeding again, just as he'd expected. The nurse was quick and pushed some gauze to it waiting patiently for the bleeding to stop. Still unconscious, Murdock didn't even do as much as flinch at her touch.

Looking away while subconsciously holding his tummy in as one of the nurses passed him closely to rummage through a cabinet, Hannibal now stared at the exit door, hoping Face would enter soon. He had the feeling that the conman was having more trouble with the situation than he'd been letting on. But he didn't blame the man for needing a moment to clear his mind. Damn! He knew he could use a moment like that himself after almost two days of blundering through uncertainty, violence, and fear.  
Without realizing it, Hannibal had clenched his hands into fists behind his folded arms.  
Damn! What he would do for a cigar break right now!

As if Dr. Jones had heard his wish, she turned to Hannibal and spoke to him with a mild voice.

"I believe it would be better if you waited outside Mr. Smith. Your men are in more than capable hands at the moment, and you're kinda standing in the way."

She gave him a stern look, but her eyes were understanding. Her face wasn't accusing or judging him in any way. Hannibal looked at her for a moment. He'd only just recovered his lost men, and instinctively didn't want to leave them out of his sight again. Hannibal glanced into the room where the nurses were busying themselves around the two wounded soldiers in a slightly cramped space and sighed in resignation.  
He'd decided he'd just have to trust the lady, who was after all a good friend of Maggie's. And even though he wouldn't be in the same room with them, he'd stay close enough to his friends to keep an eye on things.

"Okay," Hannibal surrendered. "My lieutenant will probably be looking for me anyway."

As Hannibal left the room, he walked into the direction he remembered coming from, hoping to meet Face halfway. As a matter of fact, Face was just strolling into his direction, carrying a big ugly lady bag in his hand.

"Where are they?" Face said instantly sounding slightly out of breath. He'd been scurrying through the halls of the clinic in search for the colonel and had drawn a few stares from people in the corridors.  
Hannibal was relieved seeing the conman and patted him on the back as they turned around to make their way back to the emergency room.

"They're getting help as we speak," Hannibal said softly.

Face nodded, still feeling angry inside. His blue eyes were brighter than usual. Knowing the conman well, Hannibal quickly picked up on his mood.

"Something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

Face bit his lip as he couldn't control his anger any longer.

"You could say that!" Face blurted. "You wouldn't believe what I just found in the van!"

As Face told Hannibal all about the video he'd found, the colonel's features darkened violently. At least now they knew what had happened to the guys.  
Part of it at least.

"We'll deal with it later, lieutenant," he said after a long pause while placing his hand on Face's shoulder.  
Face, having trouble hiding his emotions, stared back at his commander with a look that was a mixture of impatience and anger. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and gave him a determined look.  
"I promise!"

Face nodded silently and sighed as they finally approached the emergency room.

Just as they wanted to enter it, the door in front of them barged open, and B.A was quickly wheeled out of the room. Dr. Jones pushed B.A's gurney forward while the nurse made sure the fluids and antibiotics stayed in place hanging from the metal post.  
Noticing the two dumbstruck men, Dr. Jones commanded the nurse to continue her way with B.A and turned around on her heels to address Hannibal.

"I am taking your man into surgery. His leg needs immediate attention if he doesn't want to lose it. You can come with me, though you can't go into the surgery room. You'll have to wait, but you can stay close if you like. Or you can stay with your other man. We're positive he has a head trauma, and I've ordered a CT scan for him. Nurse Darcey is currently attending to him as we speak."  
Hannibal made a quick decision.

"You stay with Murdock. I'll go with B.A."

"You got it," Face replied.

"This way then, Mr. Smith," Dr. Jones said sounding rushed.

Hannibal followed in her footsteps as Face hovered in front of the door of the emergency room.  
He wasn't very keen on hospitals and braced himself mentally before entering the room.

* * *

TBC


	16. Chapter 16 - Slow

Hey again,

A little later than expected, but some stuff just kept me from writing. The 1st paragraph was actually part of the previous chapter. But I changed the sequence. So if you feel like you've read it before? You're not wrong. Sorry about that :) (By the way, I DID alter that paragraph a bit. So I offer digital cookies for those of you who notice the changes I made).  
But the next part is new, and things are moving again. I hope you still enjoy the story. And have I said thankyouuuu for the kind reviews yet?  
They keep me going!

* * *

Chapter 16: Slow

Face entered the emergency room but hesitated at the door. His hand was still on the handle while taking in the scene.  
Murdock was lying pale-faced on the examination table. His face was covered with an oxygen mask but at least he seemed to be semi-awake since the last time Face saw him. Though by the looks of his drooping eyelids, it was clearly causing him some effort. A young nurse was busying herself around him, carefully cleaning up his face and side of his head to remove some of the dried-up blood to get a better look at the head injury.

"F'ce!" The lanky pilot mumbled. A clearly relieved smile spread on his features as he recognized the conman.

"Heya buddy," Face said as he entered the room and approached the table. As he stood next to his friend, he grabbed a chilly hand while taking in Murdock's bloodied face. "How're you doing?"

Murdock lifted a heavy arm and clumsily started grappling at his mask trying to remove it. The nurse quickly intervened and gently moved Murdock's hand away.

"No no, sir, please keep your mask on for now. You've hit your head pretty hard and we suspect some swelling of the brain. The oxygen might help to reduce it." Her last words were directed more to Face than to Murdock, who's hand sank back on his chest while his eyelids drooped again.

Trying to keep the injured pilot alert, nurse Darcey put a hand on Murdock's shoulder and gently shook him.

"Is this your friend?" she asked him while eyeing the newcomer curiously.

Murdock nodded slowly.

"Sit down then. But please don't stand in my way," the nurse instructed Face with a no-nonsense manner while filling a syringe with a clear liquid in it.

Then she addressed Murdock, "Sir, I am going to give you a little bit of an anesthetic agent to numb down the area above your ear. That way I can stitch the wound without causing you pain. Please keep your head still for me, okay?"

Murdock nodded again.

"That means no more nodding from now, sir," the nurse said warningly but with a twinkle in her eye.

Murdock shook his head instead. The nurse's features pinched sternly but she said nothing. With a careful hand, she steadied Murdock's head and quickly applied the anesthetic before waiting for it to work.

"I'm afraid I'll have to shave part of your head," Nurse Darcey announced, looking apologetically at her patient while clicking a new blade on a straight razor.

This got his attention. Murdock's eyes suddenly widened and with a sudden move, he grabbed Face by his necktie and dragged him down to whisper something in his ear.

"W-What?" Face muttered half choking in his tie. Initially, he was having trouble understanding Murdock's slurred words through the mask. But then his eyes cleared as he understood what his friend was asking.

"Er...Noooo, Murdock. No, I don't think that's a good idea," he uttered awkwardly.

At seeing his friend pouting behind the transparent respirator, Face chuckled. "No, I mean it, Murdock," he grinned at the mere thought. "No extra shavings."

"What is he saying?" the nurse asked.

The conman hesitated for a second, wondering how odd it must sound.

"He... He's asking if you could shave both sides of his head so he'll look a bit more like our friend."

At her puzzled face, he added, "The big guy with the _'mohawk'_?"

"Ah!" Nurse Darcy said, looking a bit bewildered while she still held the razor in mid-air.

"Um...I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid I don't do requests," she answered.

The young woman shot Face a slightly amused look before carefully shaving part of Murdock's hair away. Murdock still pouted a bit but kept his head still as the nurse put away the razor and cleared away the stray hairs.

"I am going to ask you a couple of questions," nurse Darcey spoke while sterilizing the area around the wound. She'd noted that her patient was slowly dozing off again and she needed him to stay awake.

"Do you think you can answer them for me, sir? What's your name?"

It took a few seconds for Murdock to respond.

"H..M...," he answered groggily, staring blankly at the ceiling. Face raised an eyebrow, surprised that his friend would give her his initials as he hardly ever used them.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Daisy," the nurse said while continuing her preparations. "So is it just H.M? Or does it stand for something?"

"I-I think so... " Murdock stammered confusedly.

Suddenly his glazed eyes were searching the room as if he'd lost something. Then he looked at Face with a puzzled expression. Face stared back at his friend in wonder. Why did he seem worse than an hour ago when they found him in that chamber? He also wondered if it was going to be a problem that they weren't using any aliases for Murdock right now. But that would probably confuse his friend even more given the state he appeared to be in. So the conman decided to say nothing.

"Keep your head still please," Darcey warned.

"W-Where is the big guy?!" Murdock asked Face, not hearing her.

"The man with the mohawk?" The nurse quickly answered. "He's in surgery. Dr. Jones is operating on him this very moment. No worries. He's in good hands,"

"Oh..."

Murdock's face pinched and he seemed disoriented again. He went silent while he let nurse Darcey finish her job. Face studied his friend quietly, noting how detached he suddenly appeared. As his gaze started to unfocus again, the pilot didn't seem to be very aware of what the nurse was doing. In fact, it looked like Murdock simply endured it all as if he wasn't really there with them.  
For a moment, the room went quiet as the nurse continued stitching up the head wound. A minute later, she put down the needle and suture and regarded her handiwork with an approving smile on her lips.

"All done," she said brightly but Murdock didn't seem to hear her. Nurse Darcey frowned slightly as she gently shook the pilot again. Murdock blinked and his eyes found hers.

"Ok, H.M. I'm going to ask you a few more questions..."

Murdock nodded. Then he smiled from behind his mask.

"You can... you can call me Murdock,"

Face flinched a little. No way they were going to use an alias this time... He sure hoped the nurse could be trusted as Dr. Jones had assured them.

"Ok. Mr. Murdock," The nurse said, smiling back while skillfully covering up the stitched-up wound with fresh gauze and a head bandage.

"Do you know where you are?"

Finally free to move his head again, Murdock looked around. Then he noticed Face and he looked at the conman as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"With Faceman...?" he answered hesitantly, hoping he'd answered correctly.

Face moved a bit closer and squeezed his friend's shoulder. The nurse, who was now cleaning up the medical supplies hesitated at his answer and looked up at Face with a questioning look.

"He calls _me_ Faceman," Face explained with an apologetic smile.

"Ah, I see," Darcey said looking a bit worried. "No, Mr. Murdock, I meant; do you know where you are right now?

A long silence again. Then finally:

"D-Do I get a hint?"

Murdock looked a bit worried. He didn't really like unannounced tests. Especially not when he didn't have time to study for it.

"You're in a hospital," Face helped out.

"Oh," Murdock said again. It was as if the answer didn't register and he looked around.

"Where is the big guy?"

"We just answered that question!" Face said, looking positively alarmed now.

"It's okay," The nurse reassured Face. "This is not uncommon behavior for people with a head trauma. Short-term memory loss can be part of it."

Looking deflated, Murdock looked away. His eyelids were heavy and his gaze started to blur visibly. Face bit his lip in frustration.

"But he really seemed to be a lot more lucid when we found him only an hour ago!" he finally expressed his worries.

Nurse Darcey looked down at the injured pilot with a thoughtful look on her face, checking his pupils.

"Mr. Murdock is experiencing at least a severe concussion. We don't know yet how bad it is. Swelling of the brain, even hours after the accident, can suddenly intensify and symptoms can worsen. Noting all the bruises, I think he has endured quite a lot today. I am going to take him to the lab right now for a CT scan to hopefully rule out any possible worst-case scenarios. Usually it would be the first thing we would do but seen the circumstances..." She trailed off, then laid a hand on Murdock's shoulder to get his attention.

"Your other friend is in good hands Mr. Murdock," she assured him. "Just one more short trip to get you a Cat scan and then I want you to rest, okay?"

Face had listened to the nurse's words with a feeling of shock. What if there _'was'_ a worst-case scenario? What if the pilot was coming out of this worse then they thought? What if that scum had caused permanent brain damage. What if...  
He suddenly felt a bit unsteady on his feet and grabbed the rail of the examination table for support.  
While all kinds of terrifying thoughts raced through his mind, he forgot to pay attention to the nurse and startled as she suddenly stood in front of him with a towel-wrapped ice pack in her hands.

"Here _'Faceman'_ , hold this to your eye. You've got quite a shiner," she said as she handed Face the bundle while navigating his hands towards his cheekbone.

Face, who'd completely dismissed all of his own aches, accepted the pack in surprise. Darcey's slim hands briefly touched his, and he felt a feeling of warm gratitude wash over him. He hadn't realized that the left side of his face was swollen and his eye was probably showing some nasty bruising too by now. Face winced involuntarily as the cool pack touched his cheek.

"Any more injuries I should have a look at?" nurse Darcey quickly inquired with a somewhat playful look at the flustered man.

"Eh, no, no I'm good," Face said grinning sheepishly behind the ice pack. It was more than likely that he had some more bruises as he felt a little stiff but other than that he was okay. It didn't happen very often that a lady would catch him by surprise like that. He gave the nurse a better look and realized he liked her. She wasn't like his usual centerfold girlfriends, but she had a sweet, slightly mischievous face with some freckles on her nose and curly auburn hair.

"Daisy Darcey," the nurse finally introduced herself, holding up her hand.

"Templeton Peck," Face answered, throwing all cause at bay now. He'd decided that he was going to trust this lady, and he shook her hand with a grateful (slightly stunning) smile.

"Well Templeton," Daisy said while rolling a wheelchair to the examination table. "I'm going to hurry and take Mr. Murdock to the lab now. Are you coming along?"

Losing the ice pack, Face quickly helped the nurse lift Murdock into the wheelchair. The conman shot a troubled glance at the pilot's painful grimace and nodded.  
Yes, he was absolutely coming along! There was no way that he was going to lose sight of his crazy friend again if he could help it.  
As he stood behind the wheelchair, Face suddenly felt something tug at his tie again.  
Looking down, he stared straight into the coffee black eyes of the crazy pilot who was watching him with a vague smile.

"'S okay, Face" Murdock said hazily. "Are we there yet?"

* * *

 _Waiting again!_

Hannibal had been pacing up and down the hallway that led to the operating room for what seemed like hours. He was worried sick, and he was wondering when had been the last time he'd seen B.A in such a devastating condition. Sure, the man had had his fair share of injuries during the years. But Hannibal was wondering if it ever had been such a close call as it had gotten today. The muscular man had always been the steady rock of the team, almost literally even. Hardly anything seemed to be strong enough to take the man down... except perhaps for the spiked milk and burgers, or the occasional knock on the head when they needed him to fly.  
Hm...okay... in retrospect... there _'were'_ a couple of ways to take him down, but the list sure was short. The big black man was strong, healthy as a horse and hot-tempered too. The word 'pain' didn't even seem to be part of his vocabulary. Well, _most_ of the time anyway. The guy was tough as nails.  
Of course, there were some exceptions in which the colonel had seen his sergeant suffer badly. But still... The look on Doc Jones' face when she did a quick examination on the man had told Hannibal all he needed to know. It was bad this time. Real bad. And he just hoped they got him to the hospital in time to help him.

Noticing that passers-by were starting to stare at him due to his continuous pacing, the colonel decided it was time to get out of the hallway for a little while. He was starting to attract attention, which was _not_ what he needed right now.

"Focus, John...," he muttered under his breath. "Keep your head low. You know the drill, dammit!"

He didn't want to go too far, so Hannibal decided to linger in the side- corridors and found himself an empty room where he could smoke.

A minute later he'd settled down, contently puffing a cloud of smoke from his cigar, and realized how much he'd needed this little break. The strong aroma of the cigar was comforting. For a minute, the older man simply entertained himself watching the swirly curls of smoke reach the ceiling. He slowly leaned back in the creaky chair as his whirling mind finally started to settle down a bit. It was like the dark clouds of worry were slowly disappearing, and thinking had become a lot more easier.  
Hannibal stared pensively at his cigar, an expensive Cuban one coming from a box that Face had given him for Christmas. Thinking of the conman immediately made him remember Face's longing to get back at the bad guys.  
It had become clear to Hannibal that neither he nor the conman had been happy with the way they'd handled them. And Face was right. What this gang of thugs had done was unforgivable. Despite the fact that handing them over to the authorities was a regular practice for the A-team, it just didn't feel right this time.  
Hannibal had a bad feeling about the head of the gang, Sartinaro. (Or, as Murdock would like to call it: 'The End Boss.')  
Sartinaro had been a tad bit too confident about his predicament to Hannibal's likings. The man didn't even seem to fear going back to jail.  
What did that mean? Did he have the local police in his pocket? Or was it as simple as having the right connections higher up? Something just wasn't adding up.  
The man had practically promised that he wouldn't rest until he'd gotten the A-team where he wanted them; dead. He'd already demonstrated how far he was willing to go. And next time he wouldn't be as 'subtle'.

 _"Next time..."_ Hannibal pondered with clenched teeth.

He sure as hell was going to ensure himself that there wasn't going to be a next time... EVER! Yes... he'd made up his mind. He was going to do something about this Sartinaro, and he needed to do it tonight. He needed to find out how to get back at this man.  
Finishing his cigar, the colonel stood up and left the smoking area in search of a payphone. Before he was going to do anything else, he needed some information first...

* * *

Dr. Jones had finished wrapping up the surgery on the big man. Changing out of her scrubs and back into her regular doctor's clothes she'd been pondering about the state of her patient. Overall she'd felt satisfied with the result for now. She'd done whatever she could to help and stabilize the man and save his leg.  
Then the doctor had ordered one of her assistants to move the man now-called 'Mr. Williams' (a pseudonym for her assistants which the colonel had insisted on) to a private room she'd arranged for the two injured men instead. Usually, she would've sent B.A to the recovery room, but this was a special case.  
Now she was looking for the colonel.  
Dr. Clarice Jones couldn't help but feel intrigued by the man. After hearing all the stories about him, these sure were exceptional circumstances.  
Turning into another corridor, she looked relieved finally spotting the white-haired man at a payphone. It looked like he'd just hung up and was making a few notes

"Mr Sm...er... Snyder" she said, only just preventing herself from using his real name and using the alias he'd requested her to use.

Hannibal looked up and smiled as he noticed the approaching doctor. But he wasn't fast enough to wipe the look of concern from his features.

"How's he doing, doc?" He asked, eager for an update.

"He's holding on," Carice reassured the man with a little smile. "Let's discuss this in my office."

She guided Hannibal into another hallway and soon they found themselves in her office, both nursing a cup of coffee and looking at each other expectantly.

"Well," Carice started, looking a little weary. It had been an unusual day for her.

"I'm happy to tell you that I've been able to save your man's leg. He's been 'very' lucky that it got treated in time because it could've turned out really nasty."

She paused a second, looking thoughtful before continuing.

"I'm sure that he will recover but he needs therapy to regain muscle strength. We're currently fighting the infection with antibiotics and making sure he's getting hydrated. He seems a very strong lad, so I'm expecting a full recovery."

Hannibal chuckled lightly at hearing Dr. Jones calling B.A a 'lad'. "That's new," he thought, slightly amused.

But he was beyond relieved, and gratitude was showing in his icy blue eyes as he thanked the doctor with a smile. Then he decided to finally ask a question that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while.

"Doc, I've been wondering. How come you're so keen on helping us, even though you've only just heard from us thanks to Maggie?"

Dr. Jones hesitated a bit before answering. "Besides the fact that I owed Maggie a favor, I already knew about you for a while. In fact, if it wasn't for my brother, I might not have been so keen on trusting you today."

Hannibal's eyebrows raised at this. "Your brother?"

"Do you remember a mission in Colorado only a couple of months ago? You rounded up a band of loan-sharks who were terrorizing my brother's company. His name is Caleb Jones. Does that ring any bells?"

Hannibal didn't need to think long.

"Ah!" he said almost immediately with a look of understanding on his face. "Yes I remember him. We saved his hardware store from bankruptcy, along with some other companies in that town."

Carice smiled.

"He told me all about you and your men and how you saved them from that bunch of lowlifes."

The doctor took another sip from her mug, looking pensively at Hannibal.

"Actually... " she went on, "It was Maggie who'd encouraged me to tell my brother about you guys. At some point, I spilled my gut about the trouble my family was in. My brother and I are real close you know. I told Maggie about it, and she advised me to tell my brother to hire the A-team if he could. I remember it took him some effort to find you guys, but in a nutshell; When Maggie called me this afternoon and told me about you guys needing help, I didn't have to think twice. I'm grateful for what you've done for Caleb."

"Huh...," Hannibal said dryly, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "Small world."

"Indeed," Clarice agreed.

There was a brief silence that was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come-in!" Carice said.

The door opened and an orderly came in with a thin paper folder. Hannibal immediately bent down over his coffee mug while turning his face away. He stared with interest at a picture on the wall showing the anatomy of a human body. The orderly, however, didn't give him a second glance.

"This came from the lab 'mam," he said, handing Dr. Jones the folder. "Dr. Simmons from the CT lab asked me to bring this to you. It's the outcome plus advice and recommendations for the Cranial CT scan you've ordered?"

"Ah yes," Dr. Jones said immediately. "Thank you, Matthew. You can leave."

The orderly nodded and left the room.

"This is the CT scan of your other man," Dr. Jones said while immediately going through the papers.

She frowned slightly while reading the paper, making Hannibal move uncomfortably in his chair in anticipation.

"How's he doing?" he finally asked after a painfully long silence.

"Well, I guess this one is, again, a lucky man," Carice answered.

"How come?"

"He seems to have a minuscule hairline fracture on the right side of the skull. And as a complication, there is swelling around that area. But fortunately, the swelling itself is minimal and we have good hopes that we can prevent it from getting worse with the right medication.  
According to Dr. Simmons, our expert in this clinic, it should be treatable. But nevertheless, we need to keep an eye on your man for the next 24 hours because it's still dangerous. According to this report, the patient seems disoriented, has spells of dizziness, trouble to stay awake, and short-term memory loss. Does that sound familiar?"

Hannibal nodded, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. But inside he felt a flurry of emotions. Feelings of relief seemed to be battling with his worries. Both boys were lucky, however, both boys weren't quite out of the woods yet.  
And then suddenly there was that anger again. Hannibal's eyes darkened as he let the fresh feelings of hatred fill his veins while thinking of the man who'd caused this.  
The doctor regarded the colonel with observant eyes, knowing very well what was going on in the back of his mind. There was a short silence as she read through the last lines of the report.

"On a positive note," she began again, startling the colonel out of his trance.

"He seems to recognize his friend and remembers his own name. He knows who he is, which is always a good thing."

Hannibal looked up and sent the doctor a wanly smile. That was at least something, for Murdock's standards anyway.

Dr. Jones slipped the report back into the folder, placed it under her arm and pushed back her chair.

"Well, I guess it's time to visit your men before I need to get back to my own patients. Are you coming along?"

Hannibal hesitated for a split second, then stood up and rummaged through his pocket, producing a roughly folded piece of paper.

"You go doctor Jones...,"

"You can call me Carice" she smiled.

"Carice," Hannibal said warmly.

"I'm very grateful for what you've done for my friends and really can't thank you enough. But I would like to ask you to hand this piece of paper to my lieutenant. I need to go and run some er... errands. But I will be back soon. Could you do that for me?"

Hannibal trusted the paper into the doctor's hands who eyed him suspiciously. "Can I tell him what you are going to do?"

"No," Hannibal answered curtly. "I need him to stay with my team and keep an eye on them. This is something I need to do on my own."

Seeing the determination in the older man's eyes, Carice sighed and nodded. This was a man on a mission. She could read that from his body language miles away.  
Hannibal then turned around and hurried out of the office. The doctor looked pensively at the paper in her hand and wondered if she should've stopped him.


	17. Chapter 17 - Taking Chances

After another long wait, another update.  
Gosh I wish I could write faster and find time more often.  
Thanks for the new reviews. I am always so happy to receive and read them. I mean to follow up soon.  
Here is another chapter. Still hoping to entertain y'all :D

Ermmm sorry in advance. Another cliffhanger alert.

* * *

Chapter 17 - Taking Chances

Hannibal sat silently in the back of the van. He was scrutinizing his reflection in the illuminated mirror of his pop-up make-up table one last time. Did he resemble that well-known lawyer well enough? It was harder when you had to improvise and use your memory instead of reference. But Hannibal was good with faces, and he was sure that the man that he was going to impersonate had dark tapered hair and a black mustache. If he remembered it correctly, the man also wore a pair of glasses. Hannibal knew that a lot of this con was depending on his acting skills combined with a good amount of bluff.  
Even though it was about time to restock his disguise kit, he was happy to discover that he still had a suitable wig and a dark mustache left. His bruised jaw was easily covered with a bit of cake make-up. Hannibal just needed to trim the stache, darken his eyebrows, and hide his blue eyes behind a pair of brown-tinted glasses which he'd found among his props. Then he would be ready to go.  
The suit he was wearing was one of Face's spares. It was a tight fit, as Face's suits were tailor-made, but it had to do. Hannibal had to keep the jacket open because of his belly. With a slight twinge of regret, it made him realize that he wasn't as young and slender anymore as he used to be in his early days. But it would do the job just fine for now. The old black briefcase would finish the look, and some of his outstanding acting skills would distract his target from these minor flaws... he hoped.

Hannibal jumped as the car phone suddenly started ringing. He stared at it in wonder, taking a wild guess that it was his lieutenant who wanted a word with him. Feelings of guilt emerged from his belly when he decided not to pick up. He was on a mission now and ready to go into enemy camp. He couldn't use any emotional distractions.  
The colonel waited patiently until the ringing stopped and when it stayed quiet, he sighed in relief. It was time for action now.

As Hannibal left the van, he straightened his jacket while automatically checking the perimeter. There were only a few people to be seen. Some of them stood in the cool shadows of the building, talking animatedly with each other while smoking a cigarette. They were probably just taking a break and didn't seem to pay Hannibal much attention.

 _Good. The fewer witnesses, the better.  
_  
The van was 'hidden' strategically in the parking lot of the attorney building that was situated right next to the police station. Being the only police station in the area, Hannibal thought that its location was a highly calculated move of these bunch of jackals. On a positive note, the fact that Hannibal was now crossing the short distance from building to building as an attorney wouldn't be considered suspicious behavior at all. Hannibal knew that he was taking another risk having the van parked this openly and so close to a police station. But he also knew that the best strategy sometimes was to simply hide in plain sight. It had worked before, and Hannibal was sure it was going to work again. Besides; he needed a quick escape if things were going to get hot. Though he sincerely hoped it wouldn't come that far.  
He didn't want to leave his men to their fate like that and wondered why he was taking such a risk.  
For a split second, Hannibal's thoughts trailed off. He was thinking of his team, his boys, whom he'd left at the hospital. Two of them injured badly, and his lieutenant worried sick over them.  
Without warning, the angry feelings returned with a vengeance, and the icy blue eyes darkened dangerously. Hannibal paused between two parked cars and took a deep and composing breath to compose himself. Looking longingly at the police station in front of him, he knew what he really wanted. He wanted revenge! He wanted to put things straight for his men. Sartinaro was in there, and he was going to get to him soon. The colonel promised himself that he was going to make sure that his team wouldn't have to go through an ordeal like this again. Not if he could help it. He wasn't sure yet how to approach the situation if he'd come face to face with his nemesis. It depended on the circumstances, but he was going to get him, one way or another. He was sure of that.  
The colonel shivered involuntarily as he buried his burning anger deep inside the back of his mind. He couldn't let his emotions take control right now. He needed to concentrate on the task ahead with a clear mind. Just one step at the time.  
Reaching for his jacket pocket, he produced a cigar and clenched it between his teeth. Finding a lighter in another pocket (He loved Face's jacket already), he lit the cigar and slowly inhaled the aromatic smoke while observing the police building again.  
Sartinaro was there. He was sure if it, he could feel it in his bones.  
Slowly but surely, he felt a familiar sensation rising in his chest and a small grin appeared on his face.  
There it was again. The jazz. Relief filled his mind as he recognized the feeling and gradually let it gain control.  
The jazz was, in his humble opinion, always a good thing when getting into action. Though he knew his men would probably disagree the matter as the colonel was known for taking big unnecessary risks from time to time.  
Hannibal shrugged. He needed it like a drug, and right now he was welcoming it with open arms.

The jazz still pumping through his veins, the colonel finally crossed the parking lot and entered the police department with his briefcase clutched in his hand. His cigar was still sticking from the corner of his mouth, as he walked purposely towards the reception. The young assistant behind the counter seemed to be engaged in an important phone call, so Hannibal waited impatiently while surveying his surroundings with extra care.  
From the outside, the police station had looked rather quiet and peaceful. However, the moment Hannibal had stepped inside, he could almost feel the tense atmosphere that was filling the air. There seemed to be a lot of police officers rushing around. And by the looks of it, a few reporters had made their appearance too.

"They must've picked up on the bust already," Hannibal thought as he watched their attempts to cling on to every passing officer to fish for a front page story.  
However, they weren't as cunning in their approach like Amy Allen would've been.  
Hannibal overheard two cops whispering to each other that they had to transfer some of the suspects into the interrogation rooms because there wasn't enough space in the holding cells.  
Hannibal chuckled softly. He was glad to hear this, as it was a confirmation that he _was_ at the right place.  
When he'd made the telephone call for the address of the nearest police station in the area, he knew he was at risk of entering the wrong lion's den. He wasn't a hundred percent sure that the gangsters had been taken custody at this particular police station at all. But as always, he'd followed his instincts, and once again, they hadn't failed him.

"Can I help you?" The young man behind the counter finally asked after hanging up the phone.  
Hannibal turned around with an air of importance.  
 _Time to get into your role._

"Yes, actually you can," He answered curtly and with his most dignified voice.

"My name is Ray Lichtenstein. I'm Mr. Sartinaro's attorney," He added with a meaningful look in his eyes.

To Hannibal's satisfaction, the eyes of the assistant widened a bit at the mention of the name.

"Bingo," Hannibal thought silently as the young man watched him slightly slack-jawed.  
He didn't blame the lad for feeling intimidated. Afterall, Hannibal had chosen his disguise carefully.  
Lichtenstein was a well-known, and in some societies even feared Criminal Defense Attorney who'd helped a lot of top criminals and celebrities over the past few years. Only recently, he'd been in the news on a daily base while defending another one of those dirty rich criminals like Sartinaro.  
Still waiting for a response, Hannibal decided to keep up his haughty act.

"Well?!" he boomed, making the poor man jump in his desk chair. "Why don't you clench your jaws together and take me to my client pronto! I haven't got all day!"

"M-My apologies, sir," The assistant stuttered as he picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. "It's just that I didn't know that you would arrive so soon."

"Ah! " Hannibal thought while tapping his fingers irritably on the counter desk to stay in his role.  
So apparently Sartinaro 'did' ask for a lawyer already, and fortunately the receptionist didn't know who it was and just accepted that it was _him_. A nice bit of bluff on his part.

As Hannibal gave the desk assistant a scrutinizing stare, he made a mental note to hurry and keep his encounter as short as possible. If the other attorney was on his way and should arrive while he was with Sartinaro, it would immediately blow his cover.  
Suddenly another fragment of the jazz coursed through his body, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Hannibal knew that the thought of exposure _should_ have worried him, but instead, it only made him more determined to reach his goal.

"Someone is coming to pick you up," The assistant said while putting down the phone.

And as on cue, a slender officer approached the counter and beckoned Hannibal to follow him.

* * *

 _A little earlier at the clinic..._

"ARGH… No, he DIDN'T!"  
Face huffed audibly as he finally reached the hiding place of the van after running through the clinic like a madman.  
Finding it empty, he realized that the colonel had really left them there and had gone on a crazy vengeance-mission on his own.  
In a moment of emotional exhaustion, Face bent forward on shaking legs and placed both hands on his knees to catch this breath. The note that the colonel had left him crumpled heavily between his clutching fingers.  
Only moments earlier, Face had been pacing up and down the small recovery room that Dr. Jones had arranged for him and his injured friends. B.A had just come out of surgery, and Murdock had undergone his head scan. But both of them were passed out and Face was beyond worried and felt downright useless as there was nothing he could do about it. B.A was sedated by the narcotics and had to sleep them off. He still looked pallid and according to the assisting nurse, he was also still fighting a fever.  
It was unreal seeing the strong man attached to so many tubes and wires right now. He suddenly looked... _fragile_. Now _that_ was a word that Face would never even have _dared_ to associate with the big guy. But right now it seemed to fit. The big black man was definitely not out of the woods yet.

Murdock had only been semi-awake when nurse Darcey took them to B.A's room. Face had helped him change into a clean sweater and jogging pants which the nurse had thoughtfully brought them from the lost & found department. Nobody had collected them anyway, and they were comfier than the usual hospital pajamas.  
The pilot had endured it all while staggering on his feet and trying his best to keep his eyes open. Face helped his friend to bed while nurse Darcey hooked him up to an IV drip with medication to reduce the swelling in his head. But even before she'd finished her task, the lanky man had already passed out from exhaustion. Despite the fact that the nurse had told Face that his friend needed his rest right now, the conman felt uneasy about it. An hour had passed and Murdock hadn't even as much as moved.  
It bothered Face more than he wanted to let on. And it bothered him even more that he couldn't ask the nurse about it because she'd left to tend to her other patients. Face wasn't sure who else he could trust to ask, except for Dr. Jones.  
However, just as Face was about to go and look for the doctor, Carice Jones showed up and gave him Hannibal's note. That f*cking note!  
Still panting and squinting at the sunlight, the conman grimaced at the thought.  
The small piece of paper crumpled even more while his hands balled into fists.  
After reading it, he'd immediately ran out of the room, leaving a baffled Dr. Jones behind. Against better judgment, he'd hoped to intercept the colonel before taking off without him. But before he'd reached the van's original hiding place he already knew he would be too late.

Exhaling slowly, Face straightened his back and lifted his face toward the sun with closed eyes. For a short while, he simply let the sunbeams play on his tired features while trying, once more, to get a grip on this rollercoaster of emotions.  
He 'had' to keep his cool and follow up on his orders like the colonel had asked him to do. But it was hard, and it wasn't fair.  
The conman took the note from his hands and unfolded it to read it one more time. His eyes flashed angrily as he looked at the hasty handwriting.

 _"Face, I have to leave you at the clinic. Stay with them. I am going to see Sartinaro. Need to fix this. Keep them safe! Take care."_

So apparently all Face had to do was staying with the guys and keep them safe, huh? Right… no problem.  
But why… WHY didn't Hannibal communicate with him first? He was his lieutenant for crying out loud! Why did he have to do this on his own? Was it a moment of guilt? Did his commander think he'd failed his men?  
Face sighed and opened his eyes again while residing into the shadows of the trees. He looked pensively at the clinic. This wasn't the usual smart or cunning behavior of the colonel. This was plain _stupidity_.  
Knowing his commander well, Face had a good hunch about Hannibal's plans. The man was probably bluffing his way into a police station while using the front door, one of his favorite moves.  
 _What_ was he thinking; going into enemy territory alone without any form of backup!?

"Damnit Hannibal!" Face cursed loudly, scaring a few birds out of the tree branches above him.

Kicking a rock out of his way, the conman walked back to the clinic with balled fists. He was going to follow orders and look after the guys alright. Of course he would! But it didn't mean that Hannibal wasn't going to hear about it when he came back….  
 _'If'_ he came back, Face thought gloomily.  
Maybe he should try to call him. Although the lieutenant didn't keep his hopes up that his commander would answer him with the mindstate he was in.

* * *

 _Back at the police station..._

"I hope you understand why I had to frisk you, sir," the young police officer said apologetically to Hannibal aka Mr. Lichtenstein.

"No worries, officer," Hannibal said, purposely trying to sound kind this time. "I understand it's protocol."

He'd thrown away the haughty act as he'd noticed that the young man was easier to manipulate if he behaved more sympathetically. The man turned out to be quite talkative. Hannibal guessed he was still quite a rookie. Not much experience yet, and not exactly the sharpest knife in the box either.

"Protocol, yes," the officer grinned. "Well, at least there is _one_ thing going the way it should. And please call me Midge,"

Hannibal observed the officer with interest. The guy was still a bit green behind the ears..., somewhere in his late twenties maybe. He had a sticky appearance, but his face was round and cheerful, and his hair was thick and blonde.  
The colonel had expected a little bit more resistance from the cops, seeing he was pretending to be a lawyer whose job it was to defend high-rated criminals. But if this chap even cared about that sort of equity, he didn't care to show it.  
Hannibal smiled kindly at the man as he took the checked briefcase with the fake legal papers from his hands. He was happy that the man didn't disover the hidden compartment that contained a cleverly concealed gun with refills.

"Thank you, Midge. Now could you please be so kind and take me to my client? I think he's been waiting long enough."

"Of course," Midge answered hurriedly while leading Hannibal out of the room and toward the cell block of the station.

"I'm afraid we currently don't have any private rooms available though." The officer began.

"I'm usually not the person to lead the attorneys to their clients, but we're desperately running out of staff and everything is mayhem around here." Midge gestured enthusiastically while talking fast.

"So I guess _someone_ had to do it" The lad chuckled.

"You see, it's because of the bust we made today. We had an anonymous tip. Our police station isn't capable of housing so many suspects all at once. I believe they arrested 10 men today! Four of them were found bound and gagged at a motel, and the rest of them were captured at the good old Silver Creek Museum. Can you believe it? We had to arrange the interrogation rooms to keep them in custody and even had to put extra security on them." The young officer beamed at Hannibal as if it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Everybody is talking about it!" He continued happily. "This has never happened before, you know. Nothing ' _ever_ ' happens around here. But since we're the only police station in miles…" He trailed off while fishing a ring of keys from his pants pocket. "We're currently waiting for backup and expect to transport part of our suspects to another police department tonight. Your client is currently locked up with several other men in one holding cell. Normally we would lock them up separately but you know… seen the circumstances…."

"I see," Hannibal said understandingly while letting the cop rattle on. This provided to be some really valuable information.

"Of course two of them were taken to a nearby clinic," Midge suddenly said.

"Wait.. _WHAT?!_ " Hannibal said a little louder than intended. It was out before he could help himself.

"What clinic?" He asked, quickly composing himself and hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"The Jones clinic, if I remember correctly." The officer shrugged, not noticing any of Hannibal's sudden distress...

"Anyway, it's the closest one in the area, so it makes sense they took them there, don't it? I heard that those two suspects were unresponsive and didn't wake up. They were sedated or something like that... So, since there wasn't any room here anyway, they were brought to the clinic under guarded custody."

As Hannibal followed the chatty officer, his mind was racing. He had to warn his lieutenant asap, but how? And at the same time, he was about to meet up with Sartinaro. He couldn't let that chance slip away either. What to do?  
Officer Midge finally paused at the door leading to the cell block. As he unlocked it, he put his hand on the handle and turned around to face the colonel.

"I understand the urgency and rush you are in, sir. But if you give me some time I'm sure I can arrange something private for you to talk with your client and..."

"There is no need." Hannibal interrupted him with a forced smile.

"But thank you very much. You can leave now. It won't take long."

The officer nodded and opened the door to let Hannibal in.

"Mr. Sartinaro? Your attorney Mr. Lichtenstein is here for you," he announced before stepping aside.

Sartinaro looked up from his cell in surprise as Hannibal entered the room. His mouth opened and then closed again while observing the colonel with shrewd eyes.

"I'll be right here if you need me," Midge said before closing the door behind him.

Hannibal muttered a "thanks," and turned around slowly while laying his eyes on Sartinaro.  
The colonel knew instinctively that he had to put his worries aside now. He'd made it this far, and he trusted his lieutenant to stay vigilant at all times. Right now, he had to focus on the job ahead.

As Hannibal stepped into the room, he took a quick look at his surroundings. In front of him were three small holding cells with thick metal bars separating him from the gang of crooks.  
His sharp eyes immediately spotted a security camera in the far corner of the room. Hannibal clutched his briefcase a bit tighter, stepped forward and chose a position that made sure the camera wouldn't be able to capture his face.  
At the same time, he was facing Sartinaro who looked at him questioningly.  
Hannibal noticed that the sleazeball was sharing his cell with two other men. One of them was the cold-eyed guy with the goat tee, whom Hannibal recognized from the thick white bandage around his hand. The colonel couldn't help a slight feeling of satisfaction as he remembered piercing it with his hunting knife. "Serves him, right!"  
The other rather timid-looking man in the cell was short and balding. Hannibal didn't see him before, though he guessed it was the guy Face took care of at the Silver Creek Museum  
In the other cells, Hannibal recognized Sartinaro's bodyguards and some of the crook's other henchmen. All of them were looking slightly battered. Then Hannibal's eyes finally found Sartinaro's again. He knew very well that his disguise hadn't fooled the man.  
There was a moment of ice-cold silence before the crook spoke with curled lips.

"What do you want, Smith..."

As in a reply, Hannibal simply crouched down and placed the briefcase in front of him on the floor. He opened it and quickly removed the gun out of its hiding place while obscuring it from the surveillance camera.  
As he stood up, he kept the gun half hidden under his jacket while pointing it at his nemesis. If he was impressed, Sartinaro surely wasn't showing it. He stared coldly at the colonel without any sign of fear.

"I knew you would come back." he snarled.

"I'm happy to please you," Hannibal answered cooly.

"Now...Let's talk…"

* * *

Face was making his way back into the clinic, trying his best not to stand out this time.  
It was something he'd disregarded the moment he ran toward the van's previous hiding place to see if he could intercept the colonel.  
Knowing that it wasn't the right moment to attract any more attention to himself, he tried to stay aloof and unnoticed.  
But as it happened, Face wasn't his usual sharp self. He hurriedly turned a corner that led into the corridor where his friends were, and almost stumbled right into a rather overweight policeman who was holding a box of donuts and a lidded paper coffee cup in his hands.

"Oy, watch it, mate!" the man bellowed indignantly.

Face silently cursed himself for not spotting this big-bellied man.

"I-I'm very sorry, sir," the Faceman stuttered politely, backing away slightly while trying not to look the man in the eyes.

"No problem," the policeman said gruffly as he entered one of the rooms without a second glance at the conman.

Apparently, he had more important things on his mind.  
Face sighed in relief while hurrying towards the room where his friends were. He suddenly realized that it was only two doors away from that cop!  
The conman was wondering what the police officer was doing there. Maybe he could find out at some point. But he definitely had to keep his wits on him and stay alert.  
Maybe he could change his outfit and find a hat or use some doctor's clothes to disguise himself. He didn't want to be recognized, and he sure didn't want that cop to know who he was. But first things first. He needed to know how his friends were doing.

"Hey guys, I'm back," Face said softly as he entered the room, knowing very well he wasn't going to get any response soon.

* * *

Only two doors away, a big cop sat down heavily on a plastic chair while taking a sip of his coffee latte.  
This was going to be a loooong boring day for him. He stared bitterly at the two unconscious men on the hospital beds that were assigned to him. They'd only brought them in half an hour ago and settled them in this old hospital room with the help of some orderly. They sure weren't going to go anywhere for a while.  
Both of the men had one of their wrists cuffed to the metal railing of their bed and looked blissfully unaware of the glowering stares that the officer was casting at them.

The cop named Stan sighed irritably. He hated that he'd been designated to babysit these two thugs, and he also hated that he had no idea how long it was going to take them to wake up and be ready for interrogation. Stan gave the two another venomous glare. It had been the first day in months he'd taken a day off. He'd planned to go on a fishing trip with a friend of his for a couple of days until they'd called him back. Of _all_ days of the 365 days to choose from, they choose _today_ to ruin it for him!  
The two men had been discovered in a sleazy motel room a little earlier that day. Apparently, they were part of a group of gangsters that the police rolled up at the Silver Creek Mill Museum after an anonymous tip. And these two thugs were the only ones that didn't want to wake up and seemed to need medical attention, or something along the lines. Stan didn't know the exact details and he realized that it bugged him.  
All he knew was that the police station was running out of personnel and holding-space, and needed him to help out. If he'd only left home a little earlier, he could've escaped the call from the police station...

Another sigh escaped Stan's lips.  
On the bright side..., at least he didn't have to keep the thugs under surveillance without the much-needed-quality-time refreshments - aka donuts he bought.  
Licking his lips, he opened the box of pastries on his lap and picked a particularly tasty-looking one from the colorful arrangement.  
As he took a bite out of a pink frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles, he stared pensively at the two sleeping men.  
One of them had a very distinct unibrow that reminded him of Bert from Sesame Street. He wondered what his real name was as he hadn't been informed with all the chaos going on. Stan shrugged. He would ask the guy if he woke up. Stan reached out for the remote control and turned on the wall-mounted tv in the corner of the room.  
As the cop took another bite of his donut and gazed at the screen showing a football game, he didn't notice that both men were stirring in their sleep.  
It looked like they were going to wake up very soon...

TBC


	18. Chapter 18 - The dark side of the Jazz

Hey there,  
I'm SO happy to update a little sooner than usual. And thanks/grazie/danke/merci/dank je/gracias for the reviews!  
By the way, I've written something extra for one of my non-signed-in-reviewers who asked me a question that I forgot to answer with my previous update.  
This is for ** _Cma_**. Please scroll down to the end of this chapter and I will tell you a bit about my personal view on Murdock's character, and why I write him the way I do in my stories.

Cheers!  
Robin

* * *

Chapter 18 - The dark side of the Jazz

An almost electric atmosphere had descended over the cell block of the police station.  
Even behind bars, Sartinaro didn't seem to be the least concerned about his current predicament. He even seemed to think that the fact that he was held at gunpoint was a laughable matter. Hannibal, however, didn't see the humor in the situation at all. If looks could kill; then he'd already made a casualty…  
Sartinaro chuckled as he slowly approached the metal cell door while holding Hannibal's gaze with a superior expression on his face. None of his henchmen moved or spoke. But their watchful eyes betrayed their intrigue as they flicked curiously from Hannibal to their boss while waiting for orders.  
Hannibal approached the cell door as well, still keeping Sartinaro steadily at gunpoint.  
As the colonel finally stood eye to eye with his nemesis with only less than a yard between them, he made a quick observation of the man.  
Sartinaro's previously white suit was now smudged, wrinkled, and blood-stained. His golden watch, tie, and belt were taken away by the cops, and both his hands were cuffed. But none of these humiliating procedures had taken away any of his supremacy.

"So…., Smith...," Sartinaro said while baring his teeth menacingly, "What do you want to talk about 'so' badly that you even had to break _into_ jail for it?

Hannibal's eyes narrowed at the sound of Sartinaro's snobbish voice. He hated it with a passion, but he kept his face clear of any expression. For a moment he waited with his answer. The silence in the cell block was getting thicker, and Hannibal wondered if Sartinaro's henchmen were secretly holding their breath while eyeing their boss cautiously.  
His eyes briefly observed the men in the other cells. _What_ was it that made them look so apprehensively at their boss?

"I want you to stop your witch hunt on me and my team, and leave us the hell alone." Hannibal finally said, keeping his voice calm and low.

There was a short silence before Sartinaro guffawed loudly. It was exactly the reaction Hannibal had been expecting.

"Really?" Sartinaro laughed. "Is that all you wanted to tell me? You want me to stop hunting you after you tried destroying me and my business? Twice if I might add…"

Hannibal nodded. "You leave us alone and I won't kill you. That's the deal…"

"I'm calling your bluff," Sartinaro snarled while grabbing the bars of his cell door and looking at Hannibal in an infuriatingly complacent way.

But the colonel wasn't thrown off that easily. Disregarding the surveillance cameras, he suddenly reached out, grabbed the thug by his collar and hauled him forward. With a loud bang, he forced the man's head painfully against the cold metal of the cell door. Sartinaro cried in pain. His henchmen started to move nervously but as no order came from their boss, none of them came into action.  
Don, who was sitting closest to Sartinaro curled his lips at the scene in front of him. His body was tense and his uninjured cuffed hand curled into a fist of anticipation. He seemed to enjoy it like he was watching a movie.

"I can shoot you right here, right now," Hannibal hissed while moving his gun through the bars and pushing it vigorously into his opponent's side.

"Yes," Sartinaro panted while struggling to get out of Hannibal's grip. "But you won't..."

Still pointing the gun, Hannibal let go of the man's jacket and looked at him in disgust.

"I wouldn't be so sure!"

"If you wanted to kill me, you'd done it already. I know how you work, Smith…" Sartinaro countered with a smug smile. "You have a code of honor to hold on to. Am I wrong?"

Hannibal didn't answer.

"Besides… How fast do you think you can get out of here if you shoot me? Or maybe I should start screaming for help right now. Even if you shoot me now, the sound of the gun will send a stampede of policemen on your back within seconds. Think about it. There will be no way out for you."

"Maybe I don't care," Hannibal shrugged.

Sartinaro chuckled. "Oh Smith… Don't be ridiculous. I know you wouldn't leave your team behind like that. You are too … what's the word? … noble... for that…"

This time it was Hannibal who laughed.

"Noble, huh?" he said scornfully. "I don't think you know me at all…"

"That's where you are wrong..., I know you, all right. Just as I know my own men..." Sartinaro said, glancing at the bunch of henchmen behind him with a gesture of his hand.

Hannibal noticed how the gang suddenly seemed to be keen to avoid any direct eye-contact with their boss. What did Sartinaro _have_ on them to make them work for him like a bunch of marionettes on strings? Moving his eyes away from the gangsters, and back to Sartinaro again, he realized that the boasting man was really enjoying himself.

"I can read people like a book, you know." Sartinaro gloated while sticking his hands in his pants pockets and leaning his shoulder nonchalantly against his cell door.

"It isn't exactly science to understand how they tick..."

At this, he eyed his gang members with curling lips.

"Especially these men were easy to manipulate. You'll need to approach them with genuine interest first while learning about all their strengths and weaknesses.  
Then you dig a little deeper into their past, and wow!….. The things you'll learn…"

Sartinaro's eyes flicked back to Hannibal with a meaningful glance.

"It think it's a smart thing to allow oneself some collateral security when working with individuals. It can be rather fruitful to invest in these things when you want them to work for you without the risk of being sold out… That way they have 'something' to lose if they do. You know what I mean?"

"I have an inkling..." Hannibal mumbled as his eye caught a small movement behind Sartinaro's back.

He'd noticed that the attitude amongst the gangsters had suddenly changed, and it was as if a dark cloud of foreboding had descended over them. Their eyes darkened and their bodies tensed visibly as they looked at their boss in disgust. Though Sartinaro, who was still standing with his back towards his gang, seemed to be blissfully unaware of this transformation

"So you blackmail your men to work for you?"

"I prefer to call it a business deal with perks…" Sartinaro said dismissively.

"Look at this guy here for example," Sartinaro added, waving at one of the men in his cell. "His name is Lee,"

At the mention of his name, Lee almost tumbled off the bench he'd been sitting on while trying to make himself as small as possible.  
The balding short man looked at his boss with fearful eyes. Hannibal was wondering where this conversation was going. He clenched his teeth, realizing he didn't have time for this type of chit-chat. Nevertheless, he couldn't help his curiosity. What was Sartinaro on to?

"Come to the point!" He demanded impatiently. Sartinaro smirked at the colonel while observing him with keen eyes.

"Lee is a very clever thief and a forger who has a wife and two young children. I promised him to pay off his debts and pay for his kid's education if he would come and work for me. And if he didn't…? Well… Let's just say there are 'many' ways to get rid of a couple of human beings by means of an 'accident'."

Lee gave a small whimper as Sartinaro paused while looking at the other man in his cell before continuing his story.

"Don here," Sartinaro gestured airily "Is someone I helped staying out of jail. He owes me big time for that." ,

Not noticing the menacing stare he received from the man, Sartinaro continued. "He is actually a convicted murderer who likes to kill for a living. That's why I made him my second in command while hunting you." Sartinaro said while sending Hannibal a teasing look. "People tend to obey better when they are afraid of you, am I right Don?"

Don slowly got up from the bench while silently shooting daggers at his boss.  
Hannibal looked from Sartinaro to Don, noticing the deadpan expression in the pale eyes of the latter. Don's gaze was set on Sartinaro while gradually approaching him. The other henchman stared at Don with watchful eyes, but none of them said a word.

"So, you see... I am not afraid of jail." Sartinaro went on. "I will be out of here before you know it, and every single one of my men will help me with that. They'll provide me with an alibi and will take all the blame for me. That's how it will go.."

"So you're telling me that they're all willing to do years for you because you have something on them that will keep you safe…  
And after that? Then what? You'll just leave them to rot in jail?" Hannibal made a quick summary with clear disgust in his voice.

"Call it insurance." Sartinaro shrugged. "Or collateral damage…whatever you prefer to call it. I'll find new men... And when I'm out, believe me, Smith...," Sartinaro's eyes widened with sudden anger.

"I will hunt you down and I won't stop until I get you and your beloved team members where I want you! I will kill each and every one of you, but it will be a slow and painful death. Count on that. You'll watch your backs from now on!"

Hannibal couldn't help but stare at the man while thinking: " _The man is mad…. completely mental…,"_

His knees trembled slightly while feelings of anger and desperation filled him from head to toe. He didn't have a plan this time and the colonel racked his brain for a more pragmatic solution. But there seemed to be none. Of course, he could leave now and get back to the team, trying to avoid capture and stay hidden for a while. But that couldn't last forever, and Hannibal knew that it would only be a matter of time before Sartinaro was back on their tails again. The man had both money and _many_ higher-up connections to his aid. Two important things that the A-team didn't have. But that wasn't the only problem. It would mean that the team would have to stay vigilant at all times for both the MP's AND Sartinaro's crooks.  
If they thought that living like fugitives had been difficult now, well, think again...  
Hannibal didn't want his team members to run for the rest of their lives. To run and never know when that sleazeball would strike again. And it meant that Murdock couldn't return to the V.A. either. He would be a sitting duck if he stayed. But having him traveling with them, without the means of his usual medication and his sessions with Dr. Richter, might become troublesome in the long run  
Of course, the other option was to kill Sartinaro right on the spot. All problems solved with one single bullet. And even though Hannibal wouldn't regret killing off this bastard, it would be against the A-team's code of honor. Hannibal stood firmly by these principles, and killing the crook would immediately cause all sorts of extra trouble which he didn't feel like risking.  
For one thing, he would blemish the A-team's good name.  
Even if he himself would take the blame for it, the guys would inevitably suffer the consequences. It was like choosing between a rock and a hard place.  
Hannibal's mind raced as he weighed all his options and tried to formulate a strategy that would somehow work in their favor.  
Killing the crook wouldn't be too difficult. But getting out of the police station and avoiding to be captured was going to be very unlikely.  
No matter how he looked at it, either choice was going to be with consequences.  
His heart suddenly felt cold and heavy.  
There was only one thing he was absolutely sure of; keeping his men safe was and had always been his priority. He wanted his boys to be far away from the claws of this filthy excuse for a human being. As Hannibal finally looked up at Sartinaro, he was surprised to see that the smug smile on the man's face had been replaced for wariness. And Hannibal suddenly understood why.  
Subconsciously, he'd already lifted his gun arm, and the weapon was now steadily pointing at Sartinaro's heart while a darker kind of the jazz was coursing through his veins. Hannibal didn't like it but at the same time, he felt relieved that he'd finally made his decision.

"You're a _fool_ to sacrifice yourself…" Sartinaro hissed, trying to make the colonel change his mind. His superior air had made way for slight worry.

"Maybe," Hannibal answered softly while cocking his gun. "But like your 'associates', I have something to lose too. You placed your bets on the wrong man, pal!"

Slowly, he felt his finger tighten around the trigger with desperation filling his mind. If he pulled the trigger, there was no way back.  
Just as Hannibal was about to shoot, a sudden movement got his attention. It all happened in a split of a second.  
Hannibal's gaze snapped from Sartinaro to Don, who'd silently sneaked his way up right behind his boss. As the colonel locked eyes with the man, he knew what was going to happen. He could practically read it from the cold eyes that stared back at him.  
Before Hannibal had time to do anything but open his mouth, Don lifted his cuffed hands and pulled them down over Sartinaro's head.  
He tightened his fierce grip and dragged his choking boss deeper into the cell. The man was trying hard to pull the cuffed hands away from his neck but to no avail. Don had clearly done this before. A maniacal grin appeared on his face as he held tight with every bit of strength he could muster. Blood-red stains were slowly seeping through the white bandages of his injured hand.

"It seems you forgot one important thing, 'boss'…" Don hissed in Sartinaro's ear who was now gulping for air and unable to scream.

"If I go to jail, I don't have anything left to lose either. And as you've put it _so_ nicely yourself; _I like to_ _kill_..." Don's eyes gleamed as if he was sharing a funny joke while slowly suffocating his master.

Looking stunned, Hannibal slowly lowered his gun and took a step backward with both arms hanging passively on his side. He watched the scene in front of him play out as if it was in slow-motion. He didn't stop it, and he didn't call for help, but he didn't look away either. He simply watched Sartinaro's lips turn blue and observed his nemesis' reddening face which was now contrasting against his previously white suit. The scared eyes of the crook briefly found Hannibal's. The colonel didn't even blink as he glared back at the man in front of him who was quickly losing his battle with death. His blue eyes were cold and empty as he heard a terse snap and finally saw Sartinaro's limp body slide to the floor with a broken neck.  
Slightly out of breath, Don stood shuddering over the dead body with a look of euphoria on his face. The bandages of his injured hand were colored red because of his struggle but he didn't seem to notice any pain.

A ringing silence fell over the cell block.  
None of the henchman had tried to help, nor had any of them raised the alarm. They just stared at the dead body with a combination of shock and disgust in their eyes.

"Your arrogance finally got you in the end." Hannibal thought in silence. "Karma is a bitch…"

The colonel blinked as if waking up from a bad dream. Trying to get a grip on himself his eyes searched for the exit door where he knew the officer was waiting to escort him. He had to leave. _NOW!_

* * *

 _Back at the hospital..._

Face kept changing positions in the rather uncomfy hospital chair that nurse Darcey had brought in for him. The improvised recovery room was small, and the chair barely fit in the farthest corner of the room. Face had placed it under the window, next to the foot of B.A's bed. It was cramped, but on a positive note, he now had a clear view on the entrance door _and_ his friends at the same time.  
But waiting was antagonizing.  
After pacing back and forth through the small room for a while, Face had finally told himself to sit down before wearing down the floor (and not to mention his expensive Louis Vuitton shoes). But he just couldn't calm his nerves. And it didn't help that he was developing a nasty headache too. His blackened cheekbone throbbed painfully, and Face wished he hadn't abandoned that pack of ice that Nurse Darcey had given him. He must've forgotten it and misplaced it somewhere. Face leaned back in the chair, trying to calm himself, but then his knees involuntarily started jumping.  
The conman moaned softly and stood up. This wasn't going to work.  
While stretching his back, he glanced at the two unconscious men on the beds. Another hour had passed, and neither of them had moved or even made a sound.  
B.A and Murdock both looked ghastly in the slightly dim-lit room which didn't make Face feel any better about the situation.  
He desperately needed some fresh air, but he was determined not to leave the guys alone.  
Standing between the beds he looked from B.A to Murdock, wishing they would just wake up already and tell him they were alright. Wishful thinking of course...  
Maybe he should say something... Didn't he read an article somewhere about the subconsciousness of the mind? Wasn't it something about people being able to hear you, even if they were passed out…or in a coma? The conman was desperate enough to try anything.  
"Heya guys…" Face started, thinking hard to say something that didn't sound too lame.  
"Er...What would you say about waking up huh? Then we can leave this place and finally visit Miss B as we promised her we would..."  
As expected, there was no sign that either of the men had heard him. B.A, who lay on his back with his leg propped up and his arms connected to the IV's, just continued his calm breathing. And Murdock, who'd rolled onto his side with his face half hidden under the blankets, stayed completely motionless as well. His IV tubes seemed to disappear under the blanket in which he'd roll himself into like a cocoon.  
Face sighed.  
"You guys really scared us; you know that?" the conman tried again, stubbornly disregarding the lack of response. The talking made him feel less alone, which was a sentiment he valued considerably right now.  
Maybe he should try joking...  
"You know what? Next time you just need to dodge those bullets a little better," Face went on.  
"This was some seriously sloppy work...I bet Hannibal will have you both run extra lapses in his next boot camp for it."  
The lieutenant couldn't be sure, but was B.A just scowling a little at these words? The movement was gone before he could properly register it. Nevertheless, it produced a faint smile on the conman's lips.

Just as he was about to continue his one-sided conversation with the guys, the sound of footsteps alerted him.  
Face whirled around while his hands slipped under his jacket. His fingers brushed his gun as he watched the door. There was a soft knock on the door before it opened and a familiar face peeked around the corner  
"Hey there," nurse Daisy Darcey said softly as she entered the room. "I was going to check in with your friends and see if everything is all right,"  
Face lowered his hands in relief and showed a faint smile.  
"Not much change, I'm afraid," he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.  
The nurse wasn't fooled though. She frowned slightly while scrutinized the conman and noticed Face's pale features and dry lips.  
Wondering when had been the last time the man had gotten anything to eat or drink she decided to speak up.  
"You don't look good,"  
"Huh?" Face said, feeling a little offended.  
Surely this was the first time someone told him _that!  
_ "Why don't you take a break and take care of yourself for a bit," Daisy said while approaching the beds. "I'll wait here while looking after your friends."  
Face hesitated.  
"I mean it!" Nurse Darcey insisted. "You should drink something and maybe get a bite to eat. And when you return, I'll get you something for that headache of yours."  
Face looked at the determined nurse in surprise.  
 _How did she know?  
_ He bit his lip while looking at B.A and Murdock again. He didn't want to leave them alone, and Hannibal still hadn't returned yet… Would it be okay to leave them with the nurse for a short while?  
"They'll be fine, and they're not exactly going anywhere," Daisy smiled understandingly.  
Face looked a little taken aback. It was as if she could read his mind!  
He smiled again and couldn't help but notice how nice her dark brown eyes were. They had a combination of mischief and sweetness about them.  
They locked eyes for a few second too long. Then out of the blue, Daisy grabbed the conman by his shoulders, turned him around on his heels, and steered him resolutely toward the door.  
"Go!" She said firmly. "And no coffee! Water is better. You seem a little dehydrated. Now get out of here and give me some space to move. I'll expect you back in ten minutes."  
To his own surprise, Face nodded obediently and grinned faintly at the feisty nurse who smiled back at him. Ten minutes wouldn't hurt…  
Even though he'd just met the girl, something in his gut told him that he could trust his friends with her.  
"Thank you," he said with a grateful smile. As he entered the hallway, he glanced back one more time and noticed that the nurse was already busying herself checking on the guys. With a weight falling off his chest, Face decided to go and look for a cafeteria.  
The nurse had reminded him how hungry he actually was. That Morning, their breakfast had consisted of a granola bar each, and a shared soda from the vending machines at the motel. It wasn't what you would call a proper meal.  
Wondering if the cafeteria would sell any good sandwiches, Face passed the doors of the adjacent rooms and didn't notice that one of the doors stood ajar.  
Behind the small crack, a pair of eyes widened at his sight.  
The door opened, and the head of a man with a unibrow peeped out, observing the back of the conman with a frown as Face reached the end of the corridor.

* * *

 _A little earlier…_

It was late in the afternoon when Bert slowly moved his head with a soft moan. His whole body felt stiff and painful as if it had recently been manhandled. And on top of that, he had a splitting headache that made him feel nauseous. There was a sound in the room that he couldn't put his finger on it. What was it? A television? Bert's eyes fluttered open. Mounted on the wall, there was indeed a tv broadcasting a sports game.  
Frowning in bewilderment at his surroundings, Bert tried to sit up. But when he tried to move his arm, it immediately pulled back with a rattle.

"What the…"

Bert lifted his head, finding himself lying in a bed with one hand shackled to the railing. The thug looked around in alarm to see his still sleeping partner laying in a similar bed next to him. And like him, he was bound to the bed with handcuffs.

"W-Where am I?" Bert muttered.

"You're in a hospital," a voice sounded from the corner of the room.

Bert turned his head slowly and gulped hard as he noticed the big-bellied cop for the first time. The man sat in a chair close to him with a remote control in his hands. The policeman stood up, put the remote away and approached the bed while scrutinizing his current prisoner.

"Sir, we've taken you into custody. You have the right to remain silence…."

Bert just endured the protocol without listening. Slowly he remembered what had happened and that the last thing he knew was getting captured and drugged by the A-team colonel, and then captured and drugged again! He moaned softly while his mind was racing to find a way out of the place.  
Bert lay down his sore head and squeezed his eyes shut with a louder groan.

"I will call a nurse," the policeman said, noting the man was in pain.

"No, wait!" Bert said quickly. "Could you… Urgh, this is so embarrassing..." Bert paused while weakly lifting himself up on one elbow. The metal cuffs were jingling warningly.

"C-Could you please help me to the restroom before calling the nurse? I really need to… well...you know…" Bert said with a pleading but clearly embarrassed look on his face. He sounded a bit slow and still looked half out of it. The policeman named Stan hesitated, wondering what would be wise. He was a kind man of heart, maybe a bit naive at times, but no monster. And he knew how bad the urge could be when nature called. This man had been unconscious for a long time, and Stan realized that he didn't look forward to sitting next to a bed that inevitably was going to stink of pee at some point. Not knowing when backup would turn up, he wasn't going to risk it.  
The policeman gingerly touched the gun that was hanging from the belt around his wide hips. He was armed, so what was the man gonna do?  
Stan shrugged and searched his pockets for the keys of the cuffs. He glanced at the man in the other bed who stirred slightly but still seemed to be fast asleep.

"Thanks," Bert mumbled as the policeman released him and walked him on unsteady feet into the patient bathroom.

"You can take it from here," Stan said as he turned around. "I'll be waiting behind the do.."

But he didn't have time to finish that sentence as Bert had hurled himself around and hit the man straight in the jaw with his fist. The impact hadn't been too bad if Stan, whose reaction had been too slow, didn't snap his head backward against the doorframe of the bathroom. With a low thud, he slid to the floor where he stayed unconscious.

"That was easy..." Bert thought while contemplating his luck.

The thug needed to steady himself briefly, before moving on. He didn't want to waste any more time. Bert bent forward and placed his hands under Stan's armpits. With some mighty effort, he managed to drag the massive man into the bathroom. Panting and sweating hard, Bert's hands feverishly searched the cop's pockets for the keys of the handcuff that was still dangling from his wrist.  
Finding them, he quickly released himself and clicked the cuff around the officer's fleshy wrist while attaching the other end to one of the bathroom support rails that were mounted on the walls. He hoped that the man would stay out of the cold long enough for him and his partner to get out of there.

"Bob, Wake up!" Bert said, still out of breath and tapping his partner's face hard. The other man slowly woke up with a groan. He was a bit smaller than Bert, and his hair looked a bit peaky.

"W-What happened?" he said as he rubbed his throbbing temples and looked around groggily.

"We're in a hospital, and I just tackled a cop," Bert said as he hastily unshackled his friend. Bob raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to ask for details.

"No time to explain, Bob. We need to leave!" Bert said impatiently as he walked toward the exit door of the room.

"You know perfectly well that's not my name," 'Bob frowned as he got up from his bed and steadied himself on the bed frame.

Bert turned around angrily. "I told you before, Ernest! We're already getting ridiculed enough by the guys as it is. So I'm calling you Bob. I'm sick of the jokes they keep making…".

Ernest, aka 'Bob' glared at his partner but didn't say a word. He had to admit that it hadn't been easy for the both of them being called the Bert & Ernie couple all the time. Bert ignored him and was now standing in front of the door which he'd carefully opened by a fraction. Suddenly he let out a gasp.

"No way….!" he whispered as he peeked into the hallway. His eyes followed a handsome man with blonde hair who just passed his door.

"No freaking way! Bert repeated while turning around to his friend with big eyes. "They're here! The A-team is here! Maybe we can make amends with Sartinaro aftera all."

Slowly but steadily, a dark grin crept onto both their faces...

TBC

* * *

My Murdock Musings for Fanfiction user cma ;)

Hi Cma,  
You left me a few reviews, wondering in what episode Hannibal says: "He's not crazy, not really."  
I remember that it's from 'Black Day at Bad Rock'. He tries to calm B.A who is getting a blood transfusion from Murdock.  
B.A is very afraid to become crazy too.  
You asked about it twice, and I was wondering if you tried to tell me that Murdock isn't crazy in the series? Sooo here is my reply.

Of course, it's for everyone to decide whether he really was, or wasn't crazy in the A-team series.  
I believe that Dwight Schultz denied Murdock being insane. But in my A-team universe, I chose to write him as a crazy person who really struggles with it from time to time. Usually, he embraces it in a way, but sometimes it works against him which makes him insecure (like it does in this particular story I'm writing).  
And my theories are based on actual episodes :)

For example: in 'Black Day at Bad Rock', Hannibal could be saying that Murdock wasn't _really_ crazy just to calm B.A down.  
But he fails to convince B.A, which could implicate that B.A has seen Murdock in a really bad and crazy state before. He really believes that the man is nuts.

Other things that convince me that Murdock might be crazy for real in the stories, is an episode of season 5. In the last Season of the series, Murdock is declared sane.  
I can't recall the title, but there is an episode where Stockwell is kidnapped. Hannibal asks Murdock at some point to go undercover as a mental patient in a psychiatric hospital. Murdock is quite reluctant at first and he shows Hannibal a childlike paper that he carries around with him that reads "I am sane". (Written with crayons and misspelled if I'm correct.)  
Later on, he agrees and impersonates Frank Sinatra. And even though he is still helping the team, he really seems to lose himself in that role at some point.  
There is a moment where Hannibal jumps into a helicopter with Stockwell and the enemy. The team is worried and chases the helicopter with the van, while Murdock stays in his Frank Sinatra role (singing and seemingly not giving a damn which is uncharacteristic for him).  
He seems to be consumed by his new alter-ego. And in the end of the episode, he actually goes on stage, pretending to be Frank Sinatra. He didn't have to do that. The job was done, and this action was weird for a 'sane' dude. Maybe it was just for fun, or reliving good old times as a crazy person. But I like to believe that he just triggered his insanity again which had always been on the surface to begin with.

So:  
I have some theories about Murdock's craziness and believe that he is, in a way, a bit crazy.  
In my stories, he isn't mentally unstable, and he performs well when he is together with his team who keep him grounded in a way. Though sometimes he might be a bit distracted by a new personality. He might be exaggerating his craziness to a max because he enjoys it, and it's in his personality to be a bit nuts. And he also tries to keep up appearances to be able to live at the V.A. Though he might be overacting it a bit, as they don't seem to be sure what is wrong with him and how to treat him. I guess Murdock just likes to experiment and try out something different every day.  
In my storylines, however, he _does_ have hallucinations (he sees his dog Billy for example), and he _does_ have his PTSD moments and a head that is full of thoughts that sometimes make him feel confused.  
In a way, he stays child-like to hide his trouble and tries to cope with them. He is on medication for his anxiety, but I prefer to keep this medication part vague most of the time. I am by no means someone who knows much about mental conditions and medication.  
Anyway, this is fanfiction, and this is just my version of this particular A-team character.

I hope you enjoy my writings about Murdock. I seem to like him best of all ;)

If someone wants to chime in on this, please do ;)  
Thanks for reading.


	19. Chapter 19 - Unexpected saviors

Hey there,  
whoot! I'm still alive and kicking! For those of you who were waiting for an update (and sending me messages to kick my butt into gear): **Thank you so much** and here are my sincere apologies for the Looooo-ooooo-*gasps-for-air*-oooooo-ooong wait! (2 months, ahum... O_o")

I got so busy that I just couldn't find the time to sit down and write this chapter. Believe me, I felt bad about it, though I managed to write bits and bobs here and there whenever I could squeeze it in.  
But don't worry. Even if the wait is long, I 'will' finish this story. I hope I won't leave you hanging too long for the next update though *grin*  
Thanks again for your interest.

Also, thanks so much for your reviews on my previous chapter. I enjoyed reading your theories about Murdock and hope to answer you soon.  
And off we go...

* * *

Chapter 19 - Unexpected saviors

There was a ringing silence descending over the holding cells as everybody stared at the lifeless body of what was once a powerful but dangerous man.  
Sartinaro was dead.  
Hannibal only hesitated a split second before he came into action. He tossed his gun into his suitcase, closed it firmly, and started to run.  
Making use of the confusion, he ignored the bewildered henchman (who were still looking appalled at their dead boss) and ran toward the exit door of the cell block. Swinging the door open, he bumped right into Midge the rookie who had been standing there waiting for him. Having no clue what was going on, the young officer looked rather rattled as the older man barged into the corridor.  
Initially, Hannibal didn't have time to prepare himself for the scene that he was going to play out right now. But he'd always been a master of improvising, and the horrible event that had just taken place in front of him gave him more than enough juice to work with.  
"Oh my God!" He shouted while grabbing Stan by the lapels of his uniform and looking at him with horrorstruck eyes. "Th- They murdered him! He's dead!"  
His own genuine shock and revulsion were still very close to the surface as he worked on his act. Hannibal knew he just had to exaggerate it a little to be convincing enough.  
"Wha….W-Who is dea.." Midge stammered, looking dumbstruck.  
"SARTINARO!" Hannibal bellowed at the lad who jumped at the sudden volume of his voice.  
"They killed Sartinaro!"  
Hannibal pushed the flabbergasted rookie toward the holding cells. "Do something! I'll sound the alarm!"  
"Yea..Yessir!" Midge obeyed tensely, promptly taking over Hannibal's panic as he ran toward the cell door to see Sartinaro for himself. This action conveniently left Hannibal alone in the corridor and he didn't waste a second of it. Wondering what would be the quickest way to get out, he knew that he had to pass at least one more corridor that would lead him to the reception area of the building and to his freedom. Knowing it would be crowded there, he needed a plan fast. Racking his racing mind, Hannibal remembered that some of the people there were reporters fishing for a story. Perfect! They would help him igniting the turmoil that he needed. Chaos and confusion would be his tools to get out of the police station unseen. Almost there now!

As the colonel entered the corridor that led to the entrance hall, he stumbled onto three policemen who looked at him in alarm.  
"Quick!" Hannibal panted before they could ask questions. "Raise the alarm! There's been a murder in the holding cells. There is an officer there who needs immediate assistance!"  
The police officers didn't have to be told twice. Asking no questions, the three of them bolted toward the cell blocks, drawing their guns as they heard Midge's panicked voice shouting for help in the distance. Exactly what Hannibal had hoped for.  
As he moved on and raced the last few yards toward the lobby, the piercing siren of the alarm went off. One of the officers must've raised it. Even better!  
A male voice boomed over the intercom. "All units to the holding cells - I repeat, all units to the holding cells".  
More officers passed Hannibal as he bustled through the last passageway. But none of them gave him any notice as they all hurried into the other direction. As Hannibal reached the reception area, he noticed the bunch of excited reporters who spotted him and immediately moved into his direction, sensing a story at the sight of the flustered man.  
"Sir, what's happening, sir!" one of them asked eagerly. "Why is the alarm going off!"  
Hannibal played his role as if winning an Oscar depended on it.  
"Sartinaro!" he said, pretending that he needed to catch his breath.  
"The mobster that recently got out of prison?" one of the reporters asked impatiently.  
"The very same," Hannibal nodded. "They killed him in the holding cells."  
Immediately, an avalanche of questions was fired at him. But Hannibal didn't have time for that. In the chaos around him, existing of alarmed officers and inquiring reporters, he noticed that the young rookie Midge suddenly barged into the lobby and was clearly looking for someone. The moment his keen eyes fell on the disguised colonel, he made a beeline for him.  
"Sir, I need you to come with me," Midge spoke while trying to make his way through the group of people.  
Recognizing the threat, Hannibal pointed at the young cop.  
"Sartinaro is dead, and that officer over there saw it all happen!" he announced loudly to the journalists that were still hanging on his lips.  
The reporters turned around in unison and immediately enclosed the poor rookie to bombard him with even more questions. Feeling a familiar twinge of jazz at Midge's stunned face, Hannibal grinned and took the opportunity to make himself scarce.  
With his suitcase under his arm, he crossed the lobby, hurried toward the exit doors, and stepped outside into the bright daylight. The cool air on his face felt great after the stuffiness of the police station. But he wasn't safe yet. Trying hard not to run to raise any suspicions, Hannibal quickly made his way through both the parking lots of the police station and attorney building toward the van. Reaching the trusty vehicle, he jumped in, threw the suitcase with the gun on the passenger's seat, started the engine, and drove away calmly. He had to force himself not to race away with skidding wheels. Monitoring the rearview mirror of the van, he screened the roads behind him. But no one seemed to be following.  
So far so good.  
Leaving the police station far behind him while entering one of the main roads of the area and feeling the tension lift from his shoulders, Hannibal suddenly burst into laughter. The jazz was still coursing through his veins, but he knew that this time it was the good kind of jazz. With his eyes keen on the road, the older man pulled the itchy wig from his head and started plucking at his fake mustache. Thinking of the recent events, he just couldn't believe the luck that had been presented to him on a silver platter.  
It just boggled his mind. With Sartinaro dead, the threat was gone.  
The colonel searched his heart for any sentiment but realized quickly that he didn't feel any regrets about Sartinaro's brutal death. He wondered if he should. But then the faces of his teammates came into view, and he knew that their safety would always outweigh anything else.  
But they weren't exactly out of the woods yet.  
Remembering what Midge had told him about the two goons at the hospital, a feeling of foreboding filled him once more. Pushing down the gas pedal, Hannibal raced back to the hospital, hoping that nothing bad was going to happen.

* * *

 _In the meantime at the Jones Clinic:_

The moment that Face had passed their door, Bert and Bob had slipped out of their room to investigate the deserted hospital wing. They were still quite wobbly on their feet but determined to check the perimeter and find out about their predicament.  
Overall, the hospital wing seemed abandoned. Most rooms were emptied and stripped. Few were still intact but all appeared vacant. The two men found a small storage room containing a supply of heavy-duty tools which indicated that some sort of construction was planned for the clinic. At first appearance, it looked like they were the only ones there, but the gangsters soon found out that one room close to theirs was occupied. As he carefully peeked around the door frame, Bert discerned a young nurse who was doctoring two unconscious patients which he recognized immediately.  
Murdock and Baracus were here! And both of them seemed injured and unconscious. This was perfect. Half of the team down and only that foul colonel and his pesky lieutenant to take care off. They would get their second chance, and this time they would be prepared and have the upper hand. Or so Bert hoped as he had to admit that he didn't feel very fit right now. His head was pounding hard and he had surges of dizziness overcoming him.  
He wondered what those damn A-team bastards had used to drug him with. He could see that Bob wasn't feeling well either. But they just had to keep their bearings until the job was done.  
Nodding at his colleague, he gestured him to follow, and both men silently retreated to the storage room to form a plan.  
They would wait until the nurse was gone as they didn't need any more witnesses. When Peck returned, hopefully with the colonel, they would try and overpower him. Bert gave Bob the gun he'd taken from the cop and laughed nastily as he picked up a sledgehammer from the tools on the floor.  
Revenge was going to be SO sweet...

* * *

Dr. Carice Jones sat in her office, warily rubbing her eyes.  
"What a day...," she sighed. " _What...a...day..._ "  
First the A-team... then the cops...  
She exhaled slowly as she dropped her hand and reached out for a damping cup of coffee on her desk. Feeling grateful for a fresh brew, she took a sip while mentally trying to get a grip on the events that had been taking place.  
Right after the A-team colonel had left the clinic, the cops had appeared with their request to take care of two of their main suspects who needed medical attention. Apparently, the two men had been unresponsive during their arrest.  
Laying far behind on her daily tasks and already being late for a scheduled meeting, the good doctor had ordered one of her orderlies to appoint the police to a room and medically examine their two suspects. She'd trusted the qualified man to send them to one of the empty rooms in the East wing of the clinic. The A-team was situated in the abandoned West wing that was up for renovations. Nobody would bother going there. Knowing very well that the team and the policemen shouldn't encounter each other, she hoped she was doing the right thing. She couldn't warn the colonel, but she would go and see his lieutenant shortly after finishing her coffee. "It will be okay", she tried to calm herself.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.  
 _"_ Damnit _..,"_ Carice lifted her head with a frown on her face. Couldn't she even be alone for five minutes?  
The orderly she'd appointed to help out the police officers stepped in.  
"Yes, What is it?" Jones asked curtly.  
The orderly looked a bit taken aback at her snappy tone of voice and walked into the room hesitantly.  
"I wanted to let you know that the two police suspects have been examined. We've taken blood samples and found traces of Methohexital, an short-acting anesthesia. Other than a few bruises, they seem physically fine. According to the quantity of the drug remaining in their system, we're expecting them to wake up soon."  
Doctor Jones sighed. That was at least a relief. It hopefully meant that the police would leave soon after their revival.  
"Thanks for the update, Ronald. You may leave" Doctor Jones dismissed the young man with a tired voice.  
The orderly nodded and turned around to leave the room.  
Pausing at the door, he suddenly remembered something.  
"Oh!" he said, slapping his head. "One more thing; I've put these gentlemen in one of the empty rooms in the West wing because all rooms in the East wing were already occupied. There is a cop named Stan with them watching over them while we speak. I thought you'd like to know."  
There was a shocked silence before Dr. Jones opened her mouth in fright.  
"Wait...You did what?!"

* * *

 _Meanwhile in the West_ wing _of the hospital:_

Maybe it wasn't the best sandwich in the world, but to Face it came pretty close to the real thing. Nourishing his empty stomach had been a good idea and he already felt a lot better.  
Weaponed with another sandwich to go, Face was on his way back to his two friends. Taking another bite of his sandwich, he hurried to the room where nurse Darcey was waiting for his return.  
During his walk while feeling a new rush of energy flowing through his body, Face finally took some time to take in his surroundings. He suddenly realized that Dr. Jones had located his injured friends in a rather abandoned wing of the clinic. And when he looked more closely, he found the reason for all the vacantness. A signpost was attached to the wall, apologizing for any inconveniences as the wing was closed down for future renovations. They hadn't started much of the renovations yet, as it looked like they were still emptying and stripping rooms.  
"Smart move, doc," Face thought appreciatively while finishing his sandwich. "This way, we'll have fewer witnesses too."

Busy patting his suit to remove any lingering breadcrumbs, the conman entered the appointed room and unexpectedly bumped right into nurse Darcey who stumbled and lost her balance in the doorway. In a quick reflex, the lieutenant snaked an arm around her waist and managed to prevent her from toppling over. The loud clattering sound of Daisy's clipboard filled the room. Then there was silence.  
For a few seconds too long, the conman and nurse stared at each other, both seemingly surprised by the situation at hand. Daisy's cheeks turned slightly pink as she gazed back into her rescuer's sky-blue eyes. They were dazzling her from this up-close, and so was the man holding her.  
Face was the first one to break the spell. Grinning apologetically, he let go of the startled nurse who needed a moment to compose herself.  
"I - I'm glad you're here," she finally said, sounding slightly breathless while picking up the clipboard from the floor.  
"I still have a schedule to keep and need to check on some of my other patients. but I expect Dr. Jones to check in with you guys soon."  
Still standing in the doorway, Face nodded understandingly.  
"How are they doing?" he enquired while glancing at his teammates in the back of the room. Nurse Darcey followed his gaze with a look of solicitude on her face. Her tone of voice, however, was calm and reassuring.  
"Considering the circumstances, both your friends seem to be doing okay. Mr. Baracas is still sleeping off the anesthesia. I checked to make sure his leg is propped up high enough to prevent the risk of clots forming in his blood. The surgeon said he was carefully optimistic about the leg wound and expect it to heal nicely. But other than that, it's still a wait-and-see. Fortunately, he seems to respond well to the antibiotics we gave him as his fever has gone down quite a bit."  
Face looked relieved at this news. In the end, he just knew that the big man was going to pull through. No way the obstinate mechanic was ever going to give up. He'd always been stronger than the average man, both in body and mind.  
"As for your other friend," Daisy continued, "He is asleep but seems a bit restless at the moment. He's still a bit feverish which I assume is caused by the swelling in his head. But with the meds he's receiving, I expect both the temperature and swelling will go down soon."  
The conman peeked at Murdock's bed just in time to see his thin frame rolling onto his other side with fisted hands. He seemed to be asleep, but there was a small grimace on his lips and his brows were knitted together. Maybe he was dreaming? Or maybe he was starting to have a nightmare? Face thought he'd recognized the symptoms.  
"Well, I'm off now," Nurse Darcey disrupted his thoughts. Face looked up into her dark brown eyes again.  
"Just holler when you need me," Daisy said with a warm smile at the handsome man. "You can ask for me at the nurse station in the East wing."  
"I'm very grateful for what you and Dr. Jones are doing for us," Face said.  
His words sounded sincere but slightly hurried as he was eager to see his friends now. As the conman passed by, Daisy briefly placed her hand on his shoulder that made him stop and look around.  
"They'll be fine," she said reassuringly. "They both look like tough guys. I promise to be back in an hour or so to check on them again."  
Face smiled politely and watched her go, then he quickly turned around and approached the hospital beds.  
To his surprise, Murdock was now laying on his back, his arms limply laying on top of the blankets, and his eyes half open. He was gazing at the ceiling with a vacant stare that seemed to go on for miles.  
"Heya buddy, I didn't know you were awake." Face said carefully.  
He knew very well that his friend might still be dreaming. His open eyes didn't necessarily mean he was actually awake. There was a fair chance that he was having a flashback after the ordeals he'd been through.  
"...Murdock?"  
There was no response.  
Face frowned as he approached Murdock's bed.  
Being completely occupied with his friend's current state, he didn't notice the movement that was going on behind his back. The previously closed door of the room slowly started to open.  
Face, however, only had eyes for his friend who, to his relief, finally blinked and uttered a shaky sigh.  
The pilot's eyes gradually scanned the room as if he was only just waking up and slowly processing his surroundings. Face looked worriedly at the crazy man, noting the ringing silence at his questions and wondering if the pilot had even heard him in the first place. But then, to his relief, Murdock's eyes finally met his and his whole face lit up as he recognized the lieutenant. A smile appeared on the captain's lips, but it faded as quickly as it came as his gaze suddenly seemed to lock onto something right behind Face's shoulder. Eyes widening, Murdock's mouth opened in shock.  
"Hey buddy, what's wro.." Face started to say. But there was no time to respond.  
Murdock acted quicker than expected.  
Without a word, his lanky arm suddenly shot forward, and his long fingers clutched around Face's silk necktie to jerk him down as hard as he could.  
Not anticipating this move, or any move for that matter, Face made a choking sound as he was pulled forward hardhandedly and landed headfirst into the mattress of the hospital bed.  
And just in time too, because a big metal object zoomed right over his head only missing him by a hair.  
Oblivious to the threat, Face's first thought was that Murdock had completely lost it. Was he experiencing a flashback and thinking that 'he' was the enemy? But the loud curse that was uttered by an unknown voice right behind him made him instantly change his mind.  
Still gasping for air, the conman didn't even have time to think. His combat skills instantly came into action as he quickly turned around and managed to dodge a second attack from the man with the uni-brow who was propelling another blow at him. The tool in his hand crashed down onto the bed, landing right on the spot that Murdock had been occupying only a second ago. The lanky man had rolled himself off the other side of the bed, taking part of the blankets with him as he did so. He yelped as his arm was held back by his IV. The force of his fall ripped the cannula out of his arm.  
Face had recovered quickly enough to recognize Bert as one of the thugs they'd left at the motel after drugging them. What was it in his hand? A sledgehammer? Damn, he needed to get out of this tight spot. And where was the other guy!? Was Bert alone or...?

Infuriated because he missed his target again, Bert roared as he lifted the sledgehammer once more in another attempt to hit the conman.  
But Face was prepared this time. Right as the thugs' arms reached up to the ceiling, Face ducked and crushed his shoulder into the man's stomach effectively knocking the wind out of him. Then Face reached out, his hands grabbing firmly around the long handle of the deadly tool that his enemy was holding. Both men were fighting over the weapon like dogs over a bone. But Face quickly got the upper hand, and he kicked the thug fiercely in the kneecaps. Stumbling for his balance, Bert didn't have enough time to recover. The drugs that had been administered to him had really done a job on his reflexes. His movements were still too slow. As he received another blow to the jaw, he collapsed backward, crashing hard against the wall. Before he even had the chance to counter attack, the A-team lieutenant was upon him, forcing the handle of the sledgehammer against his throat.  
Bert made choking sounds while both his hands clutched the handle in a useless attempt to remove the building pressure from his windpipe. But his opponent's death grip was fierce. The lean veteran sure was stronger than he looked.  
"There was another man." Face hissed. "Where is your partner?"  
Bert didn't need to answer that question as the cocking sound of a gun against Face's head already spoke volumes.  
"Release him," a sudden voice behind him hissed in his ear.  
Face sighed. Knowing exactly what his predicament was going to be, he reluctantly lowered the sledgehammer and stepped back. Bert took in several gulps of air before a gleeful smile formed on his lips. Breathing hard, he stepped away from the lieutenant to join his partner who was standing next to Murdock's bed.  
"We got you now Peck!" he wheezed triumphantly while jerking the sledgehammer from Face's hands again. Face expression had turned sour as he stared at the crooks.  
"Hey, where's that skinny fella," Bert inquired while looking around.  
Still held at gunpoint, Face quickly looked around too, noting that there was no sign of the pilot.  
He'd been so busy fighting the goon that he didn't see what had happened to his friend. It surprised him that Murdock could be so fast in his current state.  
Then suddenly, a small movement from under the bed caught his attention. Face knew what to do and immediately looked into the crook's eyes to distract him from what was happening behind him.  
"Sheesh, I don't know," He said tauntingly. "Maybe he got kidnapped by Dr. Doom again, or maybe he's invisible today. You never know with this guy..."  
"No more tricks. Tell me where he is, Peck!", Bob said, painfully pushing the gun into Face's chest. Bert rounded Murdock's bed suspiciously. All he saw were blankets on the floor. As he crouched down, however, a foot unexpectedly shot out from under the bed and kicked his legs from under him. Cursing his lousy balance, Bert fell forward, hitting the floor hard. Bob whirled around to see what happened, which immediately caused him to stumble forward and fall on his face as well. Someone had tied his shoelaces together with a solid double knot!  
Face didn't have to think twice to see an opportunity. He launched himself on the unsuspecting crook and knocked him down with one well-aimed blow to the head leaving the man senseless on the ground.  
Bert, who'd recovered quicker than Murdock could anticipate, managed to dodge another kick to the shins and grabbed the pilot's bare foot while dragging him hardhandedly from under the hospital bed.  
Murdock who'd been taking cover between the wheels of the bed grasped fruitlessly with his hands to get a hold of the metal bed frame, but he wasn't fast enough. Bert pulled and fully exposed him without any means of defending himself. Without his cover, Murdock was vulnerable, and as he tried to scramble back to his feet, Bert kicked him hard in the side. The injured pilot gasped for air and fell back to the floor, curling up into a ball. Then the crook reached for his sledgehammer and raised it one more time.  
Still dazed, Murdock didn't even see what was coming. But Face did.  
With a furious cry, he jumped upon the crook just in time to prevent him from executing the finishing blow. The sledgehammer hit the ground with force, missing the pilot only by inches. For the second time, both men toppled onto the floor. Bert grappled desperately with the conman, trying to get away from the blasting fists, but Face was beyond infuriated. Enough was enough! Rage had taken over, letting out a scream of frustration, he managed blow after blow until Bert lay unconscious on the floor with a bloodied face.  
Then suddenly, a loud gunshot went off. A bullet penetrated the wall just above Face's head. The conman ducked instinctively as small bits of plaster fluttered through the air and landed in his hair and on his clothes.  
Looking up, he saw that the other crook had recovered again. Bob stood there, trembling with excitement while holding Face at gunpoint.  
"Our boss said we had to deliver you alive," He said while panting hard.  
"But I think that we can tell him it was... self-defense..."  
He slowly aimed the gun at Face's head while his fingers curled around the trigger. A mental grin appeared on his lips, his eyes looking excited at the prospect of delivering at least three A-team members to his boss today.  
"Bye Bye, Peck..."  
There was nothing Face could do. Murdock lay on the ground, unmoving. And B.A, who was still deeply asleep, hadn't even moved during all the ruckus. They'd finally ambushed him and he was literally standing with his back against the wall; Too far away to run toward the crook and disarm him. Too far away from anything useful to get himself out of the firing line. He was out of options. Face closed his eyes in resignment, waiting for the blast of the gun while feelings of regret and anger filled him to the core.  
But instead of a blast... there was a...  
'BOINNNGG!?"

"What the..." Face's eyes flicked open with a start just in time to see the gunman crumple to the floor in a heap.  
Behind him stood Nurse Darcey with a metal bedpan in her hands. Her eyes were wide, her face looked flustered, and her mouth stood half-open while she stared at the motionless man lying in front of her. A rather dumbfounded silence filled the room. Face stared at the nurse with an incredulous, yet admiring look on his features, totally in loss for words.  
"I.. I ... didn't know what else to do..." Daisy stammered apologetically.  
"I ...I remembered that I forgot to give you the painkillers for your headache, so I came back and heard all the noise and... then I... ehmm", she made a meaningful gesture with the bedpan in the direction of the unconscious man and shrugged.  
Murdock finally stirred on the ground and lifted himself up on one elbow with a stifled groan. For a minute, he studied the nurse who was still holding the bedpan for dear life and the crook who lay unconsciously at her feet.  
The frown that had initially been playing on his thin face was quickly replaced by a look of sheer amusement. "Huh...!" he said dryly with a lopsided grin.  
"Defeated by a pisspot... I kinda like her, Face...Think you oughta keep her,"  
His remark was rewarded with a familiar eye-roll from his handsome friend who bent forward to help the pilot from the ground.  
Murdock willingly let him help him back up his feet but stood swaying nevertheless.  
"You okay?" Face asked, noting how heavily Murdock was leaning on him while screening the room, clearly looking relieved at the sight of B.A.  
Noting that the wounded leg had been tended to and the fact that his big friend seemed to have regained some color to his face and lips, he let out a sigh of relief. Then he realized the Faceman had asked him a question.  
" hmmm...'M fine," he mumbled dismissively while looking questioningly at the two motionless gangsters and suddenly recognizing them.  
"Care to tell me what Bert and Ernie are doing here on the floor?" he asked looking slightly puzzled. "They wouldn't be pickin' daisies now, would they?"  
At this, the crazy man quickly glanced at the floor to assure himself there weren't any daisies actually sprouting from the vinyl to begin with. Then he looked up at his friend again with a concerned frown.  
"Bert and..?" Face asked, looking at the pilot in confusion. Then looking at the unibrowed man and suddenly connecting the dots, he said "Ah..! No. They're not picking daisies, Murdock. I'll explain everything later. But for now, let's hurry and bind and gag these two before they come to."  
"A capital plan," Murdock agreed with his most posh British accent.  
"Speaking about plans...," he continued, "Where's the colonel?"

TBC


	20. Chapter 20 - Cleaning up

Chapter 20 - Cleaning up

Hey dear everyone!  
I hope you will enjoy this new chapter as it's a bit more heavy than usual. I must admit that I kinda had a blast working on the last bit of this chapter because I am sort finishing it with a final referral to Chapter 7 called 'Connected'. If you remember that chapter, you know what I mean. (It's been a while since I wrote that one though).  
Anyway...  
As always, thanks- thankie-thankadoodle! for all the new reviews and encouraging words that fuel me to keep on writing. It keeps me going, even though I've been tired and literally swamped with deadlines lately. I feel bad for writing, knowing very well that I have other things to do that are more urgent. But sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do right? And I needed this off my chest.  
As always  
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Hopefully, it's not too dark. And I can already reveal that there will be a bit of romance involved too!

* * *

Chapter 20: Cleaning up

Murdock sat on the edge of his bed while eyeing the two unconscious men on the floor with a strained face. He seemed deep in thought, although he tried his best to look composed and vigilant. Even though he wouldn't admit it openly, he felt ready to drop again, but he didn't. He knew he had to stay alert while Face was checking the perimeter. He had to keep an eye on the bad guys and protect B.A, who was still quite out of order.  
His hands rested wearily on the sledgehammer on his knees but were ready to strike if need be.  
Murdock's eyes narrowed as one of the thugs stirred a little in his deep state of oblivion. Maybe the two thugs were bound, but you couldn't be too careful with this kind of sleazeballs. They were just like fruit flies; Ready to steal your sandwich when you turned your back on them.  
The pilot couldn't help but notice how their swelling faces were already showing signs of deep dark bruising. Had it been Face who did that? He couldn't recall the details as he'd experienced a little black-out during the fight. All he remembered were the nurse and the bedpan, and the furious look on the conman's features when he was frisking the two for any more weapons and other unpleasant surprises. If only looks could kill, these guys would've been pushing up daisies somewhere on a graveyard.  
Murdock looked away, realizing he couldn't muster any empathy for them anymore.  
These punks had been two essential gears running a machine that had proved to be a human-sized trap for the A-team. A trap they'd walked into with open eyes and barely made it out alive. As his ex-orderlies at the V.A, they'd purposely triggered his worst fears and insecurities for weeks on end. It resulted in anxiety attacks and feeling unhinged. There was no doubt they'd managed to lay their hands on his personal records to get this far...and then... they killed him.  
Or tried to at least, the pilot smirked darkly.

"But in retrospect...Maybe it had been a good thing after all," he mused.

Seeing these goons lying on the floor suddenly made him realize that, mentally, he was feeling a lot better. The deep darkness that had been building in his mind for weeks seemed to have vanished completely. He wasn't sure if the bullet had knocked it right out of his head, or maybe it was the simple realization that he hadn't been seeing ghosts after all. All he knew was that he hadn't lost his mind (as a matter of speaking), and he'd learned that all of his recent fears had been fabricated. He suppressed a chuckle that had been rising in his chest.  
Did feeling like this even make any sense?  
Murdock thought about it, then shrugged.  
Since when did things have to make sense to him anyway?

Feeling a little more chipper than expected, the pilot glanced at the still B.A with a longing look. Come to think of it, he just couldn't wait for him to wake up and tell him the good news. After all, it wasn't every day that someone climbed up a degree in the nutty-department to successfully attain the rank of _'Cracked' Nut Extraordinaire_.  
Although it was only an eeny-mini hairline fracture, it could definitely be defined as a crack! He already imagined B.A screaming at him to _'"SHUT UP!"_ simply for bringing it up again.

"Oh, how he loved running gags..." Murdock grinned as he wondered if there was any chance he could lay his hands on the x-rays.

But his brief moment of happiness was suddenly interrupted by a painful throb that surged through his skull and almost made him throw up. He squeezed his watering eyes shut for a moment then slowly opened them again while looking doubtful at the sleeping B.A. Although the prospect of getting on his friend's nerves was quite enjoyable, it was a pity that had to come with such a splitting headache.

"Are you okay?" asked a sudden female voice very close to him.

Murdock almost jumped out of his skin and quickly looked at his right side where he found nurse Darcey who looked back at him with observing eyes. She'd been busy inserting a new cannula in his arm and was re-connecting him to his IV. She'd already bandaged his other arm which he'd hurt during the fight while accidentally ripping out the tubes. It had been bleeding a bit, but the nurse had expertly patched him up again.  
Murdock blinked sheepishly, his heart still pounding as he realized that he'd descended into his chamber of thoughts 'SO' deeply that he'd completely forgotten about the nurse working on him. He gingerly touched the bandage on his head with a slight pout. Stupid head...

"How does your head feel?" Daisy asked while watching the pilot closely. She hadn't missed his jumpiness nor his confusion.

Murdock didn't answer immediately as he seemed to mull over his answer for a few seconds. Then he shrugged and looked away shyly.  
"I guess it's worse than a dozen of space hamsters tapdancin' on my noggin," he said, slurring his words only slightly. "But not as bad as a Starship mistakin' my cranium for a landing strip..."

At this, nurse Darcey stared at him, seemingly puzzled with his rather imaginative response.

"I see..," she smiled while immediately writing off his reply as a side-effect of his head injury.

"Well, I guess you'll need to get some rest once we've ehm... solved our little problem," she gestured nervously at the two unconscious men which they still needed to deal with.

As Murdock gave her an embarrassed nod, nurse Darcey gave his IV one last checkup and started cleaning up the dirtied gauzes and instruments she used. She wasn't sure what to think of this situation at all.  
However, she'd surprised herself realizing how calmly she'd handled it all. Her days at the hospital weren't very exciting usually. Most of the time they were almost mundane. But not today. Suddenly her friend and boss Dr. Jones had asked her in secret to aid these strange and injured men who'd appeared out of nowhere. And to top it all, she had to keep them a secret for part of her colleagues while making excuses for her absence.  
Funny enough, that was all okay with her. And in a way, it was even a bit exciting! But being part of a fight, and knocking a man down the way she had... _'that'_ was absolutely new to her. She thought she would freak out afterward, but so far she hadn't, and a new sense of adventure was now taking over.  
And of course, there was this handsome man called Templeton Peck aka Faceman. A bit slick and too smooth to her taste at first. But when caught off-guard, his charade dropped somewhat, and she could see a glimpse of his raw emotions and his deep concern for his friends. She knew deep down that this was a good man. A man with genuine compassion and kindness. And somehow this made her feel very attracted to him. Though instinctively, she also knew there was something dangerous and mysterious about him too. Daisy blushed slightly, realizing that this detail kinda aroused her at the same time.  
Just that moment, as if she had been speaking (or technically thinking) of the devil, an excited Faceman rushed into the room.

"I did a quick perimeter check and found a room with two previously occupied beds." He said rapidly, wasting no time to get to the point.  
"There was a cop cuffed in the bathroom of that same room."

Murdock's eyes widened in alarm at this news.

"A cop? That means we gotta leave, man! we gotta leave now!"

Sledgehammer still in his hands, he jumped up a little too fast. Then he sent a nervous glance at the still form of B.A.

"But we may have a slight XXL-kind-of-problem on our hands... Any ideas on moving a sleeping mountain?... A-a plan would be good right n-now,"

He swayed as he realized that Hannibal still hadn't returned either. A little panic started to rise in his stomach.  
Face immediately rushed forward.

"Hang on, buddy." He said while gently pushing his friend back on the bed and taking the heavy hammer from his hands. "You're going to take it easy and do nothing for now. The officer is unconscious and cuffed inside a bathroom. He's no threat at the moment. And..," He added mischievously. "I have a plan,"

Calming down a little, Murdock sat back against his pillow and frowned at his handsome friend.

"A plan?" He said exhaling slowly, "YOU?"

"Why Murdock, you hurt my feelings." Face said sounding offended, although a little light played in his eyes.

Maybe it wasn't exactly Hannibal's kind of jazz that he was feeling right now, but it sure came close to it. And right in time too as he'd suddenly found himself forced to fill in for his absent commander.

"We don't have to leave at all," he explained. "On the contrary. We're going to stay, remove our traces, and become invisible."

"Oh!" Murdock sounded relieved. "I know exactly how to do that. We just have to think of white pape..."

"Invisible in a matter of speech, Murdock," Face interrupted him firmly.

"I'll tell you my plan in a minute but first I need some help to move these er...gentlemen... back into their own room."

Murdock instantly stood up again, but this time nurse Daisy intervened. She quickly stepped in front of him to block his way. The pilot frowned at her in surprise.

"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Murdock," she said firmly while pushing him back onto the bed.

"B-But..." Murdock stammered in surprise.

"No 'buts' Mister. I haven't inserted that cannula for fun you know. You need your medicine and rest, and you're getting it right now," she continued curtly while helping him under the blankets like a little kid. "No more exertion for you. Doctor's orders... "

"But I..." Murdock tried again looking helplessly at his friend.

"I can help Templeton move those guys. It's no problem," Daisy assured him. "At least all those hours spent at the gym will pay off for a change." She winked playfully at Face.

Jaw dropping slightly, Murdock stared at the small woman with an incredulous look on his face. Meanwhile, the conman could not help grinning back at her with an encouraging smile.

"You better listen to her, Murdock," he smirked. "I don't think you want to mess with her.."

He'd started to like this feisty nurse very much and watched her with an amused look on his face as she helped the grumbling pilot back to bed and pulled the blanket up to under his chin. Murdock sent Face a reproachful look, but Face just grinned back at him.

"I better not see you getting out of bed again, Murdock," he warned the lanky pilot. Murdock instantly folded his arms above his blankets and sent the conman a gloomy look. He looked like a grumpy big child who'd just been betrayed by his best friend.

"You really need to work on your bedside manners..." he muttered glumly.

"I will if you stop yanking my tie with each and every opportunity you get," Face retorted.

Murdock snorted and looked away, but he couldn't suppress a small grin on his face. Face chuckled, feeling relieved that he was seeing some of the old Murdock-antics again.

"We'll be fine," he assured his friend.

Then he turned around and grabbed Bert, the tallest of the thugs under the armpits and pulled him toward the door. The man's legs dragged limply over the floor. He saw Daisy follow his lead and pick up Bob, who was a bit smaller. She dragged him away from the scene without too much effort.

* * *

Face was glad that they weren't seen as they shuffled silently through the corridor.

"It's here," Face whispered, sounding slightly out of breath while nodding at the room where he'd found the cop.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and quietly shimmied his way backward into the room. While passing the bathroom and peeking around the door opening, he noticed to his relief that the cop was still laying on the floor, both arms chained to the bathroom support rails, and still blissfully out of cold. "Perfect," he thought as he dragged the unconscious Bert further toward one of the beds. Hopefully, the cop would stay unconscious for a couple more minutes. This was after all a bit of a risk.  
Daisy followed the conman in pursuit. Panting slightly, she let go of her own thug and looked around. It was a similar room to the one Murdock and B.A were settled in, and only a few doors away too. She wiped her hot face.

"Now what?" She whispered.

"Now we put them back to bed," Face said. "Can you help me with this guy first?"

Daisy hurried forward and grabbed Bert's legs while Face pulled him up by the armpits. With some effort, they managed to drag the man onto the bed and did the same thing with his colleague.

"Can you patch them up a little," Face then said. "I bet they looked better before they broke loose, and that cop must know. I only hope we put them in the right beds too."

Daisy nodded thoughtfully.

"I see what I can do," she whispered before hurrying into the bathroom and (not without feeling guilty) stepping over the unconscious policeman. She then returned with two damp washcloths and quickly started mopping down the blood from the thug's faces.

Meanwhile, Face slid into the bathroom as well. But his task was quite different. Crouching down on one knee, he fished his picklock-set from his inside jacket pocket, removed one of the tiny and delicate tools, and started fiddling inside the lock of the handcuff. Face was so focused on his task that he almost jumped when the policeman Stan suddenly sniffled and stirred. Face's eyes widened in alarm and he quickly paused his activities. Holding his breath, he prepared himself to get out of the bathroom as quick as he could. Though fortunately, after seconds that seemed to last longer than 5 minutes, Face had to assume that the cop was still unconscious, and he resumed his activity with extra stealth.

*click!*

The first cuff was loose and within a second, he also opened the other one and carefully released the cop from his restraints. Then he placed the gun he'd taken from the thugs from his belt behind his back and placed it back into the man's duty belt, assuming it was his.  
Daisy was waiting in the room for him while keeping an eye on the two thugs when Face stepped out of the bathroom. She'd patched them up as well as she could.  
A look of relief crossed her face as he smiled at her and handed her one of the cuffs.  
As the conman silently cuffed Bert's wrist to the railing of the bed, she copied his moves and cuffed Bob the same way.  
With both criminals restrained, she looked up expectantly at Face who stepped around the bed and approached her closely while looking into her eyes with a charming but apologetic look on his features.

"I'm afraid that our next move and its outcome will depend on you, Daisy" he said with his suave, mildly melancholic voice.

"What do you mean?" Daisy asked, not knowing about the further details of his plan yet and suddenly feeling slightly cautious.

Face sighed.  
Without withdrawing his mesmerizing gaze, he placed both hands on her shoulders and looked at her with a passionate expression on his features. Daisy couldn't help it. She had to look back while sinking deep into his sky-blue eyes. Even with his bruised eye and cheekbone, he managed to look damn sexy. His hands felt warm on her shoulders, his grip was firm but gentle, and she could feel small butterflies dancing around in her stomach.

"What do you need me to do? She asked breathlessly.

"You'll have to wake up the cop and pretend you found him by coincidence.  
Tell him that he fell in the bathroom and bumped his head badly. Deny that his prisoners escaped and tell him that nothing happened other than his own clumsiness."

"Okay...I will" Daisy whispered, their heads moving closer and closer. The taller man in front of her was irresistible. She felt his breath on her face and could still smell faded fragments of his expensive cologne.

Then, without a warning, they kissed.  
Face gently put his arms around the nurse's waist while she stood on tiptoe and snaked an arm behind his neck. Her hand reached upward and curled through the man's blonde locks while warm waves of joy filled her body. Face couldn't help it. The kiss was, for a change, unexpected and happened so spontaneously that it kinda overwhelmed him. It wasn't exactly the right moment for it but he gave in to it like it was a lifeline while letting passion engulf him. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed this until now. For a fleeting moment, his worries and tension left his body.  
It took him a few seconds before he registered the rushed footsteps in the hallway. Only moments before the door of the room burst open, Face heard it.  
He parted abruptly as his instincts kicked in, and dove behind the bed to hide from whoever was approaching.  
Inwardly cursing himself for letting himself be distracted by the lovely nurse, he prepared himself to fight his way out. What if they were cops? Or a new mob of aggressive gangsters...  
Daisy, still slightly overwhelmed with the kiss, didn't have the same reflexes as the conman and simply turned around to face the newcomer.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaimed quietly while looking flustered.  
Forgetting about all formalities she added: "I'm so glad you're here, Carice!"

Face curiously peeked around the corner of the bed and sighed in relief as he saw the person who'd entered the room.  
It was doctor Jones.

* * *

Murdock lay in his bed, arms still folded, looking around the room with an irritable sigh.  
He was aching all over and bone-tired. He had to admit that. But he also couldn't rest. He didn't know how.  
How could he possibly sleep, knowing that his friend and an innocent nurse were getting themselves in danger somehow?  
He needed to be ready to help if things went awry.  
Murdock sat up straighter against his pillow while pricking up his ears. He had to be ready to get into action the moment they needed him. But... nothing happened.  
Just as his eyes started to droop rather involuntarily, a low grumbling, almost whispering sound reached his ears. It came from the other hospital bed and Murdock quickly turned around to look at his big friend.  
The bulky man in the bed stirred slightly while knitting his eyebrows together in a grimace. By the looks of it, he was having some kind of bad dream.

"Are you waking up?" Murdock asked with a hopeful look on his face.

Against _doctor's orders_ , he pushed the blanket away and stepped out of bed, momentarily appreciating the cool floor under his bare feet. He grabbed the mobile IV pole for support and wheeled it toward his friend's bed.

"Wakey wakey, B.A." Murdock said cautiously while bending over his sleeping teammate.

B.A frowned and muttered something incoherently but his eyes were still closed. Murdock could see them moving restlessly under their eyelids and frowned. The mechanic looked sweaty and feverish. Biting his lip, the pilot quickly checked the room in search of something that could help cool his friend down. Staggering a little with the IV pole at his side, he found the adjoined bathroom and a small cabinet that still held some washcloths. To his surprise, he also found a plastic bag with his bloodied clothes, shoes, and jacket. His baseball cap was laying on top of the bag.  
He'd been wondering about it as he'd realized that he was wearing some oversized sweater and jogging pants. Apparently, they'd changed his clothes at some point, though he couldn't remember when exactly. But he was glad that the nurse hadn't put him in some awkward bottom-flashing hospital gown because THAT would've been rather embarrassing during the fight with the thugs.  
Murdock stifled a grin at the mere thought.  
Grabbing his baseball cap, he noticed that someone had rinsed his cap from most of the blood. And even though it was still damp, Murdock happily trusted it on his head. He only winced slightly when the cap covered the head bandage, but it felt SO good. With his cap on, the lanky pilot immediately felt more like himself again.  
Remembering his initial mission, he then quickly grabbed one of the washcloths, soaked it thoroughly in the cool water from the tap, wrung it, and returned to his friend to put the cloth on his forehead like a cold compress. To his relief, the frown on B.A's face softened a bit, but it didn't stop him from talking incoherently.  
Murdock's face pinched as he bent forward to hear what his friend was saying. But none of it made sense.

"You really have to speak more clearly, big guy. I haven't mastered the Language of Gibberish yet. It's a whole different thing from my usual Jibba-Jabba, ya know..."

There was no reply this time, and the mumbling stopped as B.A seemed to drift off again.  
Murdock huffed irritably as he staggered on his feet. He was starting to feel very frustrated with this situation.  
An unexpected wave of dizziness hit him hard, and he was just in time to sit down on the chair next to B.A's bed before toppling over. Holding his throbbing head with two hands, he waited for it to pass with clenched teeth. He just had enough of this situation. When would it be over?  
It was all so frustrating. Just as he thought they were out of trouble, the team had to deal with two more of those thugs again. Hannibal wasn't here, B.A was still out of service, and he himself... well... totally useless.  
But on the bright side; at least Face got some help from that dainty nurse...

Gaining more control over his emotions and dizziness, Murdock sat up straight and stared unseeingly out of the small window of the room. Not for the first time that day, he unknowingly started humming 'You are my sunshine'. He didn't see the scared grimace on B.A's face who'd started stirring again.

* * *

Slowly, VERY slowly, B.A began to emerge from that dark pit in the back of his unconscious mind. Gradually, he picked up sounds again, and sometimes he even registered an occasional movement or shadow around him. His closed eyes shifted restlessly behind their eyelids.

There had been movement and muffled shouts coming from far away, and it sort of alarmed him.  
The black man wanted to wake up, but as he was still covered with a heavy blanket of anesthetics, all he could do was wondering vaguely what was going on.  
It was the loud bang of a gunshot followed with a 'BOIINGG" that had initially prompted his mind to get back into action.  
While still lingering in that void of darkness, B.A finally started to recall the things that had happened to him and his team members. He'd noticed that the cold and damp cell he'd been held captive in earlier, had been exchanged for a soft and warm environment. He didn't understand how it happened, but it felt good.

Then fractions of memories started to come back to him in quick succession. The road trip with the skittish pilot. Him dismissing Murdock's suspicions about being followed. The inevitable ambush and the man killing Murdock in front of his eyes. Then that dreadful fight, the cold cell and the infection of his leg eating him up slowly and painfully... These horrific moments were ripping through his mind like red-hot knives. But the thing that was present most of all, was the all-consuming feeling of guilt that was gnawing at him. It was all ' _his_ ' fault.

 _"Shut up, fool!"_ The words seemed to echo through his very soul.

Those had been the last words Murdock had heard him say to him. The very words B.A wished he could've taken back.

"Please, let me do it for you," The gang leader had replied coldly before pulling the trigger.

True to his words, that son of a bitch had shot down the crazy pilot in a blink of an eye, and all because B.A'd told him to stop talking.

B.A kept playing this scene over and over in his mind, and he just couldn't forgive himself.  
What if he'd listened to his friend, and... what if he hadn't yelled at him. Murdock got killed because of these very words and his ghost had come back to haunt him for it. He was sure of it.  
Though suddenly, B.A realized that this fact confused him.  
'Had' he actually seen a ghost? Or had it all been a hallucination? Did Murdock really die?  
Without a warning, a new flow of memories started surfacing. He saw himself laying in the van, hearing Murdock's soft voice talking to him.. Had it been a dream or...?  
For a fleeting moment there, B.A could've sworn that his friend had been alive. But then again, he'd probably been delirious at that time as his memories were fragmented. The thought alone evoked unpleasant emotions that he didn't want to deal with right now.  
The bulky mechanic simply didn't know how to cope. He'd usually hid those nasty feelings behind his tough exterior. He would express them in his fights. Those were the moments he let out all the build-up rage until he was calm again. The only people seeing through this mask, the only people who _really_ knew him, were his teammates and, of course, his mom.  
But right now there wasn't a proper way to ventilate his feelings, and his charade had shattered into pieces. It felt like he was going to explode.  
Trapped in his induced sleep, B.A had no way to escape from his own grieving mind. He felt beyond remorseful and started pleading with the nightmarish image of his crazy friend who had suddenly appeared in front of him again looking all ghostly.

"Murdock, I'm sorry," B.A sobbed.

The pilot just stared at him with a hollow expression. His face was pale while dark streams of blood flowed down his cheek and dripped from his chin. His clothes were covered in white dust, dirt, and cobwebs.

"I- I'm SO sorry," B.A mumbled again. "It's all my fault"

Murdock's hollow eyes started to look at him accusingly, but he stayed uncharacteristically quiet. He just stared at the mechanic who's knees buckled.  
At that moment, B.A silently vowed that he would never say those words again if there was a chance that Murdock had survived this ordeal.  
As he looked up, the ghostly appearance of the pilot vanished and was replaced by a low humming sound that filled the darkness around him. It was a song that B.A remembered very well...and it immediately sent shivers down his spine.

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray._

"NO! S-Stop...Murdock, I'm sorry!" B.A cried as his mind continued his personal punishment.

* * *

"St...p No...Mr..dock"

Murdock stopped humming and lifted his head. He looked bewildered at his sweating friend who was moving his head restlessly. The cold compress had slid off his forehead.

"B.A..wha...?" Murdock mumbled, quickly approaching the bed and reaching out for one of B.A's clenched fists in an attempt to comfort him.

The sergeant's eyelids were still too heavy to lift and B.A turned his head again. Still battling the anesthetics, he was slowly but surely getting the upper hand from the pull of sleep. He _had_ to get away from this nightmare!

"St..p..!" B.A mumbled again. "'M Srry.. Murd..ock."

"It's okay, big guy. Just wake up. You can do it!" Murdock encouraged him.

There was a short silence, but then B.A mumbled something that was finally understandable to the ears of the lanky pilot.

"M-Murdock...I'm .. so s'rry... 'S all my fault... so sorry Murdock"

"Huh..." Murdock frowned, looking taken aback.

"I'm... sorry, please forgive me. 'S all my fault " B.A repeated, his voice getting clearer and more intelligible.

The reaction his words caused was rather unexpected. Murdock's eyes darkened dangerously.

"All my fault..."

Then all of a sudden:

 _*whack!*_

"Yowww! What the ...!?"

B.A's eyes flung open as he screamed in surprise. He tried to focus on the blurry figure hanging over him with a raised fist. Slowly, he started recognizing the lanky frame of the crazy pilot who was wearing his characteristic baseball cap.

"Fool, ya punched me!" B.A shouted weakly.

He sounded more astonished than angry.

"And I'm gonna punch ya 'gain if ya keep sayin' more stupid things!" Murdock countered angrily, his Texan drawl more prominent than usual.

"You're dead...," B.A uttered.

It wasn't a threat. It was more like making a statement. His mind felt disorientated as the last trace of narcotics were still working on him.

"I's my fault! Ya gotta go. Go away!" There was a positive hint of fear in his voice now.

The black man swung a heavy arm at his lanky friend, but the pilot hopped away just out of reach, slapping his hand away.

" _I'm_ not dead. _You're_ not dead. _And the hell you're gonna put all that guilt on yo' shoulders!_ What are ya? CRAZY?!" Murdock positively yelled now.

"You-You no ghost then?" B.A said doubtfully. He couldn't be sure as his vision was still swimming in and out of focus.

*whack!*

"Does that _feel_ like a ghost?!"

"Yautch! I'm gonna get you for that sucka!"

His usual instincts stirred by the sudden whacking, B.A tried to get up from his bed in an attempt to chase after the pilot. But dizziness and a sharp and painful stab in his leg made him reconsider his actions.  
As he fell back to his pillow he cursed under his breath. Damn, he forgot how painful stab wounds could be.

Murdock looked mildly satisfied as he finally witnessed a hint of his friend's usual temper.  
Now ' _that'_ was the B.A he was looking for.  
Nevertheless, the lanky man was still fuming himself. How the _hell_ could B.A think that he was to blame for his non-existent death. This was madness.  
There was only one remedy for such nonsense, and that was beating it out of him with a direct (slightly violent) approach.  
But the extortion was starting to take its toll on him.

"Like I said," Murdock huffed while sitting down heavily and preventing himself from toppling over. "I'm not dead. Not yet. Now quit acting as if I am! It's not nice..."

B.A finally calmed down and looked at Murdock as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"Understood?" Murdock asked with a tired but persistent voice.

"Understood..." B.A nodded sheepishly.

"Good..." Murdock said while leaning back in the chair and briefly closing his eyes.  
B.A watched him as his vision started to gain more focus. The pilot looked tired and emotional and clearly tried to hide it. But other than that, he looked like he was going to be okay.  
There was a long pause where nobody said anything.  
Then Murdock finally opened his eyes and turned his head around, sending his friend a hint of his lopsided grin.

"It's real' good to have you back, big guy," he said softly "But don't you _**dare**_ stop telling me to shut up...," he added warningly.  
"Or I'll haunt you for real, you got that?"

B.A nodded mutely while another involuntary chill ran down his spine.  
How did the fool know that he'd promised himself he'd never say those words again? Had he been talking out loud?

Murdock just smirked at him mischievously.

"Yes I know... big guy...and no, you didn't say it out loud."

Responding to the flabbergasted look on the sergeant's face, he added:

"We're connected, remember?"

* * *

TBC


	21. Chapter 21 - A man with no plan

Chapter 21 - A man with no plan

Hey everyone. Another chapter. I'm almost done wrapping up this story. It was supposed to be a SHORT story. But for some reason, I didn't quite manage that.  
This is chapter 21, and without realizing it, I worked on this for almost a year. I can't even comprehend it. It's because I'm a slow writer, and especially during periods with deadlines, I find it hard to concentrate and write more, though I keep longing for it nevertheless.

Here is another chapter. One that was quite difficult to write for me because there was a major issue to be solved. One between a disappointed lieutenant and his commander.  
Officially, I also wrote a bit about B.A and Murdock. But I am going to put that in my next chapter because this chapter was getting a bit out of hand (in word count).  
For now, this chapter ends with a classic A-team disguise. A bit overdone maybe, but for some reason, they always got away with it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts if you care to share.  
Talk to you soon!

* * *

Chapter 21 - A man with no plan

When Dr. Carice Jones entered the room, she wasn't sure what she'd just stumbled upon exactly. Her nurse Daisy looked flustered at her arrival, and at the mention of her name, one of the A-team members - the cute one -appeared from behind one of the hospital beds with an apologetic look on his face.  
On the beds, chained to the metal frames, she noticed the two unconscious men she expected to be the two criminals. And from the corner of her eyes, she could see another man - a cop by the looks of it - lying on the floor in the bathroom.  
"Oh dear..." she thought. "What have you gotten yourself into, Carice?"  
Then she turned to her nurse and the A-team member. What was his name again? Peck?

"I think some kind of explanation is in order," she said, raising an eyebrow while trying to keep herself calm and collected.

She didn't want to say it out loud, but things were suddenly looking quite different for her and her clinic if this news would get out. It wasn't just about harboring four wanted men anymore. Now the cops were involved, and one of them had been injured while on duty. Things were running wildy out of hand.  
Not being fooled by the doctor's poker face, Face immediately stepped forward.

"I can explain," he said with a suiting tone of voice.

The cop stirred slightly on the floor, and Face glanced at him with a guarded look. Quickly making a decision, he took both Daisy and Carice by the elbow and gently led them out of the room, though with slight urgency.  
"We don't have much time." He said in a hushed voice. "That cop is about to wake up. Let's go outside so he can't overhear us."  
Dr. Jones sent the conman a quizzical look.  
"We're going to fix this Miss Jones," Face assured her with a calm voice. "But I'm afraid we're going to need you more than ever now."  
His blue eyes caught hers and looked at her intently yet almost apologetically.  
Dr. Jones gave in.  
"Alright, tell me what you need," she sighed.  
Face beamed at her gratefully.  
"Thank you, Carice," He said. "I will tell you my plan now."

And so he did.

* * *

Officer Stan was feeling rather dizzy, and sick, and highly uncomfortable.

Sitting up and leaning heavily against the cool tiles of the spacey hospital restroom, he wondered where the hell he'd gotten himself into. He'd woken up only a few minutes ago on a cold floor with the sight of two ladies fussing over him. He quickly learned that one of them was a nurse and the other introduced herself as a doctor and also head-physician of the clinic, but he'd already forgotten their names.

"Wh...What happened?" Stan mumbled for the third time while looking around with a dazed look. He rubbed the big lump on the back of his head absentmindedly and winced as it started throbbing painfully at his touch.

"You've had an accident in the bathroom, sir. Don't you remember?" Dr. Jones answered quickly while examining the man and checking his dilated pupils. "It looks like you've lost your balance and hit your head pretty bad."

The young nurse sat on her haunches next to the bewildered cop.

"Can you remember what happened?" she asked.

Stan needed a moment to let the words sink in before shaking his head.

No, he couldn't remember.  
Fortunately, he completely missed the relieved faces of the women who glanced at each other briefly. This was exactly what they'd been hoping for, or they would've steered him into that direction themselves with some tips that Peck had given them.

"Just play the injury-card," Peck had said. "Tell him he can't remember things correctly with a bump on his head like that. You need to bluff but stay close to the truth. That makes the lie more convincing than anything."

For now, it looked that this scenario wasn't necessary. The cop had a genuine concussion and was suffering some real memory loss according to plan.

"Last thing I remember..," Stan slowly began with a look of concentration on his face... "is keeping an eye on two men I had in custody, and..."

Suddenly his eyes widened in horror, and without a warning, he scrambled back to his feet and headed heavily for the door under loud protests of the two ladies

"Calm down sir, you shouldn't move like that with a concussion,"

Ignoring them both, Stan stumbled into the room.

"Where are they!" he panted, looking around wildly.  
"Where ar... oh...!"

At the sight of the two criminals lying chained to the bed, he calmed down again. Swaying wearily, he quickly leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself while cold sweat formed on his face. He felt nauseous and his face started to turn 10 shades of green.

"Sir you need to sit down," Dr. Jones insisted as she followed him and led him to a chair.

"B-But I got to watch them.." Stan stammered feebly.

"No worries," Dr. Jones said with a calming voice. "I've already called the police station to tell them what happened,"

"But I really need to keep an eye on them," Stan protested again.

"Help is on the way," dr. Jones assured him.

Besides..." the doctor glanced at the still unconscious and bruised men on the bed. "I don't think they will be running away anytime soon."

Convinced that that was the case, Stan then finally settled down.

Carice sighed in relief. She had indeed called the police, but not because she wanted to. It was Peck himself who'd advised her to do that. She'd been surprised at his plan at first, but the conman insisted that It would take away every suspicion from her and her clinic if things went according to normal procedure. The police didn't expect the A-team to be there unless the two thugs would wake up and start talking at some point. But he didn't expect them to, knowing that their own freedom was at stake too. They didn't know yet that Sartinaro and their colleagues were imprisoned. Face knew he was taking a risk, but he expected them not to blab about their mission to the cops unless told differently by their boss. Carice really hoped the conman's intuitions were right, but there was no other way to find out.  
The moment Face went away to find some supplies for the rest of his plan, the busy lady had made the phone call while sincerely hoping that this adventure would turn out fine.

* * *

Face was making his way to one of the storage rooms of the clinic. The good doctor had given him instructions and permission to look around and see if he could find the things he was looking for.  
Meanwhile, nurse Darcey and Dr. Jones had their own little act to play-out, and it was important that he would be out of sight when they did.  
It hadn't been difficult to convince the sweet nurse who seemed to be very keen to join into this new exciting venture. But Dr. Jones was having a bit more difficulty with the idea to mislead law enforcement. She reluctantly agreed to cooperate, mostly because her good name and the name of the clinic would be at stake. She was clearly worried now the police was suddenly involved, and it changed the situation a bit. But just like the conman had assured Murdock before, nothing was going to change really.  
The team was going to stay invisible like nothing had ever happened. He only hoped that the doctor and the nurse were going to be convincing enough liars to do what was needed.

As Face finally found the storage room, he made sure that nobody saw him enter. The hallway was empty of people. The young lieutenant took the keycard that the doctor had given him from his pocket, and swiped it through the card lock. A soft beep, followed by a click, unlocked the door, admitting him entrance. As the conman stepped inside, the lights swooped on automatically. A dull beam of LED-light brightened the tidy room that was filled with all kinds of hospital stuff. The walls were neatly covered with storage shelves filled with equipment and medicine. There were utility storage carts, frame racks, cabinets and more.  
Face noticed a wardrobe with hospital garments which triggered his interest. There was a stack of bowls, bedpans, emesis basins, and fine equipment all wrapped in sterilized packaging like syringes, tweezers, scissors, sutures, clippers etc. In the far corner, there were some boxes stacked. With the instructions of the doctor, who gave him this idea in the first place, Face knew exactly where to look. He made a beeline for a shelf with metal boxes in the back of the room and checked their labels.  
There it was!  
Face reached out and plucked one of them from the shelf. Opening them, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes. The box was filled with medium-sized plastic signboards, just like the doctor had told him. Flicking through them, he found the one he was looking for.

"Aha!" he said triumphantly while looking at the signboard and reading its contents.

This was perfect. Now all he needed was a doctor's coat, and one of those surgical masks.  
This would do perfectly fine.

* * *

Hannibal peered impatiently at the red glowing traffic light at a busy junction. He plucked at the last remaining bits of his fake mustache and glue from his upper lip while his thoughts were drifting back to his team. He supposed that he was only 5 more minutes away from the clinic now.  
Darn, that traffic light sure took its time. He really wanted to get back to the guys as fast as possible.  
Hannibal's eyes strayed over the cars in front of him. Then suddenly, they narrowed at the sight of a police car that was waiting for the traffic light at the opposite side of the road to him. Hannibal scolded himself for his inattentiveness and grabbed his pair of dark sunglasses from the passenger's seat to place it on his nose. Knowing very well it did little to really hide his face, he watched the behavior of the two officers in the car.  
Hannibal's tired brain was racing. He was sure that he'd left the police station unseen. No-one had followed him either. But with the police, you always had to be on your guard. You never knew when a cop was eager enough to follow the latest buzz on the most-wanted-men-list. Plus, he'd seen that the van had some frontal damage. That would attract attention too!

The colonel started to wonder if he'd checked both headlights to be working while observing every movement inside the police car.  
By the looks of it, they were just receiving a call. One of the men picked up the radio's handheld and spoke intently while seemingly staring right back at the van.

"Come on," Hannibal thought, cursing the slow traffic light under his breath. "Come on Damnit! Turn green!"

Usually, he'd welcome a fun challenge like a hot pursuit with both hands. Afterall, it kept him keen and on his wits. But right now, he simply wasn't in the mood for it.  
Just as he was playing with the thought to just take his chances and make a proper run for it, his wishes were granted and the light turned green. Hannibal wanted to pull up fast as he could, but before he could even do anything of the sorts, the police car in front of him had pulled up too with loud and blaring sirens.  
Too late!  
There was not enough time to respond. The car seemed to head straight at the van and then... took a sharp U-turn before heading into the other direction. The same route Hannibal was about to take.

Hannibal blinked for a second, just staring blankly after the police car. He felt completely flabbergasted and even slightly irked by its complete ignorance. Without realizing it, the jazz that had been building up deep inside his chest again. The colonel exhaled long and low and chuckled lightly. This surely had been a very odd day...  
For a second there, he really thought he was about to 'enjoy' another cat-and-mouse-race. But as his eyes followed the speeding police car getting smaller, he just blessed his luck again...for now.

Loud honking from impatient drivers behind him woke him up from his referees. Coming back into action, the colonel pulled up quickly while a sudden feeling of foreboding settled over his heart.  
Why were the cops going the same direction as he did? Were they heading for the clinic too? In a reflex, Hannibal pushed down the gas pedal deeply and started racing after them.

* * *

A few minutes earlier, at a certain traffic junction in a certain police car:

Officer Ken Segal fidgeted on the passenger's seat with a grumpy look on his face.

"Of all days...!" he began while clenching his fists involuntarily.

"Of all days, they have to pick 'today' to call us in for duty..."

Ken shot an angry glance at Wayne, his colleague who looked equally peeved while driving. Both men had been on a well-deserved day off, and both men had been called back for duty due to an emergency they hadn't been briefed about yet. Ken was feeling bummed out more than anything. Glowering at the traffic in front of him, he thought about his little birthday boy who'd been in tears when he had to leave for work so suddenly.

"I wonder what mayhem we can expect at the station," Wayne sighed.

"Apparently, they've rolled up a complete gang or something...I heard they called in every personnel available to deal with the situation. "

Ken folded his arms grumpily.

"I don't see why they can't finish them up on their own..." he growled, remembering the devastated look on his son's face again.

Ken glared at the traffic in front of them while they approached a red traffic light at a junction and came to a stop. He would be all too happy to emit his emotions on some random passerby who was not obeying the law in the slightest sense of the word.  
Waiting for the traffic lights, he noticed a big black GMC van on the opposite side of the road that had some small damaging to its bumper and its headlight. Even though the light still seemed to be working, though barely, it was just enough to make him sit up and get into action.

"Care to check out that number plate?" Ken said while pointing at the van and reaching for the handheld of the car radio. "Looks like a broken headlight to me. That's violation of the law..."  
Wayne's eyes followed Ken's hand, and he too looked at the van with narrowing eyes. Then he sighed.

"Come off of it, Ken...The light is still working..." he said, raising an eyebrow at his colleague.  
Then seeing the determined look on his colleagues face he added: "But if you really feel like taking out your frustration on an innocent bystander...Well...Knock yourself out... It's only your job on the line..." he added with a well-dosed pinch of cynicism.

At this, Ken deflated in his seat. He shrugged while glaring at the black GMC as if it had insulted him personally.  
Then the radio started crackling.

"Charlie 901 to Sierra 12, Code 8."

Ken and Wayne looked at each other for a second before Ken picked up the transmitter.

" This is Sierra 12. Go ahead Charlie 901"

" We have a Code Eight at the Jones Clinic in Birch city. We need a unit in that area."

"Go on," Ken said. "Who got injured?"

"Officer Lee was charged to keep surveillance on two suspects," Came the crackling answer. "He's been injured on duty."

"How bad is it?" Ken wanted to know.

"Apparently not too serious. Knocked his head pretty good. Suspects are still confined,"

"Shit, that's good ol' Stan for ya," Ken smirked, forgetting protocol. "Copy that. We're on it."

As he disconnected the call, Ken groaned bitterly. "This is just not our day...," he wined. "Now we gotta babysit Lee too?"

Wayne chuckled.

"Poor ol' Stan though. It seems he's making a mess of things once again."

"Yeah, he was better off when he was still writing parking tickets..." Ken said, shaking his head.

As the traffic light finally changed to green, Wayne turned on the sirene, pulled up the car, and quickly accelerated while taking a sharp U-turn with shrieking wheels.

Ken glanced one more time at the damaged headlight of the black van with an almost wistful look on his face. He would've really enjoyed checking its license plate and writing down a ticket for that one... just because he could...

* * *

Not realizing that he'd just dodged a bullet, Hannibal sped up and followed the cops as cautiously as he could manage. He made sure that he was keeping just enough distance between the vehicles to be able to see where they were going without getting too obvious. As expected, he noticed that the police was indeed heading for the clinic, and he noticed that they were heading straight to the front entrance. The white-haired commander decided that he wasn't going to follow them there and steered the van into a side road that would lead him to the back of the clinic instead.  
Despite his worries, Hannibal chuckled quietly as he realized that it suddenly felt highly unusual to 'not' use the front door for a change. After all, it was one of his trademark moves, usually accompanied by some kind of pincer movement. But this time, Hannibal thought the better of it, knowing very well that pincer movements were quite out of place right now. The colonel quickly parked the van in the same hiding spot they'd dropped it before and vacated the vehicle with his sunglasses still on. It was his only disguise beside his cake-make-up that was covering the bruises on his face. And he was still wearing Face's suit.  
Quickly checking the perimeter, he made his way to the back of the entrance of the clinic.  
By now the sky was slowly turning into a deep orange, and it made Hannibal realize that the end of the day was finally approaching. The sun had already started to set, though it would still allow for a couple more hours of light before it would finally claim the day. Hannibal glanced at his watch. It had been a long day, and he had to hurry to find out what was going on with the cops and his team. He entered the clinic in search of the cops.  
Knowing the building from his earlier visit, Hannibal quickly stumbled upon the entrance hall and also the two officers who'd been lead toward one of the hospital wings by an orderly. Hannibal followed them cautiously, making sure to keep well out of sight. He had no idea where his boys were, but following the cops might lead him to them. But then what? He didn't have a plan. Clenching his teeth together, Hannibal realized that he needed more information first before he could even come close to a plan! He had no idea what had happened. No idea what their score was...  
The orderly, with the cops on his heels, then finally rounded a corner and was greeted by Dr. Jones who approached the men down the hallway.  
Hannibal hid behind a huge potted palm and eyed the group from between the bright green leaves. He saw the doctor introduce herself and shake hands. She seemed a little nervous yet composed.  
Forgetting about his surroundings, the colonel tried to concentrate on the conversation when a sudden hand from behind grabbed him by his shoulder. Hannibal could only just prevent a yelp and whirled around with his fist ready to strike. The man behind him dodged him with ease.

"You're getting slow, colonel," Face whispered while lowering the surgeon mask from his face and feigning a bitter smile. It didn't go unnoticed, but Hannibal was too relieved to mention it.  
"Report, lieutenant," he whispered.

Face's keen eyes peered over his commander's shoulder at the group who was now moving toward the room that accommodated the two thugs and the injured policeman. "Follow me," he said in a low voice.

Raising his eyebrows, Hannibal did as ordered and Face led him to a door close to where they were standing.  
The conman held the door for the colonel while turning on the light. The two men moved into a small space that was being used as a supply room for tools and other stuff. It was the same room Face had located earlier when finding out more about the two thugs.  
Sinking down on a box of supplies, Hannibal uttered an impatient: "Well?"  
After closing the door, Face sat down too while throwing a gloomy look at his commander.

"You first," he said with a hushed voice.

Hannibal slowly took off his glasses and observed his lieutenant more closely. The colonel wasn't surprised at this response and the lack of following his direct commands.  
He'd been expecting and maybe even dreading this moment for a while and knew very well that he would have to face his friend and teammate one way or another.  
But he hadn't expected it to happen so soon while being so terribly unprepared.  
He sighed, feeling the sudden fatigue taking over again and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  
Understanding that his team wasn't in immediate danger right now (or else his lieutenant would have sung a different tune) he calmed down a little.  
There was a long uncomfortable silence.  
Face stared at Hannibal, his frustrations raging through his body, not sure where to start.

"I'm so angry with you right now!" He finally began with a trembling voice. "I could actually punch you in the face, you know that?"

"Well, why don't you?" Hannibal said calmly. "If it'll help you blow off some steam, who am I to stop you?"

Face stared at the colonel in disbelief. The rage in his body had started building up again. It had been a terrible day with lots of emotions, and this build-up anger... well,  
this anger had to get out somehow.

"Maybe I will!:" he almost shouted while raising his fist. The calm demeanor of the colonel was infuriating him. How could he just sit there so calmly after leaving them alone at this clinic without any information? They had no idea where he went or what he was up to. There were no means to contact him when things went awry.  
Of course, deep inside, Face had known exactly what his commander was up to. He was going to fix the situation with Sartinaro, eye to eye and tooth to tooth. But suddenly he, 'the Faceman', was left in charge with two injured friends, stuck in a situation and without any means to support his commander.

For a moment there, all the frustration of the last two days filled his mind. His fist lingered trembling in the air. Hannibal gazed at his lieutenant unmovingly. His face was composed. There was no sign of anger or fright, though Face could see a twinge of regret in the icy blue eyes staring back at him.  
The colonel didn't even stop his lieutenant as Face finally made his swing at him.

"ARGH,F*CK! Damnit!"

Face yelped a muffled cry of pain as his fist forcefully, yet intendedly, hit the wall instead of the colonel's face.  
Hannibal looked at him startled.

"Why! Hannibal!" Face almost yelled now, having trouble to keep his voice down. "Why do you always do this to me?"

There was a short pause again, but then Hannibal couldn't help himself and gave him a wanly smile.

"Well technically you did this to yourself," he pointed out.

"You know bloody well what I mean. Don't you try and evade me with witty remarks like you always do!"

Face sat back on a cardboard box, huffing audibly while clenching his probably fractured hand that showed red knuckles.

"It's because I'm so damn easy to use, right? An easy pawn in your game of Jazz" he said softly while shooting another dark look at his commander.

"Hasn't it always been like that? 'Face will fix it for you'. 'Face will ALWAYS fix it'... Well, let me tell you something, Colonel. Face fixed it again. And you know what? It sucked!

The conman stopped for a brief moment to catch his breath before continuing.

"You do realize I have feelings right? And Brains?! I can use them to think you know. You could at least have discussed things with me before marching off and sacrificing yourself for whatever crazy plan that got into that head of yours. Did you even think of that? Did you even consider that 'maybe' we could've worked out a plan together?"

"I came back…" Hannibal mumbled weakly.

"With sheer luck, knowing you!" Face scoffed.

"I needed to do this," Hannibal said, ignoring the spot-on remark his shrewd lieutenant just made.

"Do what exactly?" Face demanded to know.

He still didn't know what the colonel had done exactly, but he could take a wild guess.

"Did you just barge into the enemy camp and sacrifice yourself? And like what, Hannibal? Like some kind of captain of a sinking ship?!  
That's not even close to one of your witty plans. That's just plain stupid while running on adrenaline and you know it.  
And just for your info; We weren't sinking just yet.  
You should've talked to us… You should've talked to 'me'!"

Face leaned back heavily against the wall, slightly out of breath but still fuming. His eyes locked with his commander's again and he searched them intently.

"I bet you didn't even plan on coming back..." he said almost inaudibly. "The note you left me told me as much…"

There was a long painful silence. Hannibal was astonished about how much his lieutenant had already understood about the situation he'd been in, even before he had time to elaborate on it. The colonel had patiently allowed his lieutenant to vent at him and pour his heart out. He didn't stop him, and in some ways, he didn't want him to either. He deserved it. All of it. He almost wished that Face had actually hit him instead of that bloody wall.

Of course, the colonel had expected his lieutenant to be upset with him. His actions had been a bundle of rash decisions from a man with no plan. A man who let his emotions get the better of him. A man who should've known better!  
But didn't it end up alright in the end?  
Sort of at least. Hadn't it all been worth it?  
And most importantly, would he do it again if the situation called for it?

Hannibal played with this thought for a while and then looked at his lieutenant who was currently nursing his hand and accessing the damage with a slight frown on his face. The man looked tired and hurt.

"No…," Hannibal realized. He wouldn't do it again, not without discussing it first. Abandoning his team hadn't necessarily been a wise decision. It could've easily ended up the wrong way. And though he'd been willing to sacrifice his freedom and even his life for his men, he had to admit that Face had a point. With the team's combined effort, they could've waited until he'd come up with a better plan.

But…  
What if they had?  
Hannibal considered this scenario.  
He knew the A-team would need to keep their heads low for a while to give his men some time to heal properly from their injuries. But the window to lay their hands onto Sartinaro would have become smaller and smaller the longer they waited.  
Preferably, the colonel would've wanted to make his move 'before' Sartinaro had the chance to do the very same thing to them.  
It was the exact reason that Hannibal had left the team in the first place. He had to get to Sartinaro while nobody expected it...While there was still a chance to talk.  
Hannibal leaned forward with one elbow on his knee and rubbed his weary eyes.  
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure if he'd made the right decision or not. The death of Sartinaro had been very fortunate indeed. But at what price?  
The colonel sighed. His mind felt exhausted. He could go on, weighing all the options and comparing them until he got tired of it. But it didn't take away the fact that he'd left his men behind. Discussing it wouldn't change anything. Nothing could've prepared him from the floodgate that he'd opened the moment he let Face have his word. He hadn't realized how much his actions had affected the lieutenant who was trying hard to keep his emotions in check.

After another long pause, Hannibal decided it was time to speak up.

"Sartinaro is dead…" he finally said while locking eyes with his friend.

Face's reaction was as expected, but his expression was hard to describe. It was a mixture of both horror and euphoria which was quickly replaced by worry and wonder.

"Y- You haven't…?" Face stammered, his handsome features finally settling with a look of disbelief.

"No!" Hannibal said quickly but firmly. "I didn't kill him if that's what you mean."

"But ..how…"

"All in due time, Face. I can tell you that any immediate danger has subsided for now. There are other things that I need to tell you first," Hannibal said.

Face looked taken aback for a second, but then composed himself and stared at the colonel questioningly.  
Hannibal hesitated shortly while trying to form the right words in his mind. He wasn't really good at this sort of thing.

"First of all…," He started. "I want you to know that I assigned you this task with the knowledge that I could trust you completely to handle the situation the best you can."

Face opened his mouth to interrupt the colonel, but Hannibal quickly waved a hand to silence him.

"I knew I could trust you to take care of B.A and Murdock and make the right decisions. You are an irreplaceable part of our team. Invaluable. I've never underestimated you and I never will. And for what it's worth, I don't consider you a mere tool to use when it's convenient to me."

Finally calming down a bit, Face just looked at the older man with interest.

"I don't tell you this enough, Templeton, but I would trust you with my own life when the time comes. I know you got my back. The same goes for the others. I acknowledge that I haven't exactly made the right choices today. Or maybe I have... I don't know... If anything, I can't change the past events. But trust me if I tell you this; I did it all to protect you guys. I wanted to make things right."

Finally deflated, Hannibal lowered his head while leaning heavily with his elbows on his knees. Feeling bone-tired, he wondered when had been the last time he had something to eat or drink. It seemed too long ago.

Face hadn't said a thing. With his gaze fixed on the ground, he seemed to be contemplating Hannibal's words while slowly flexing his painful hand.

"I'm sorry, Face" Hannibal suddenly said after another pause. His voice sounded croaky.

At this, Face looked up in surprise.

It was quite rare to receive an apology from his commander who by nature wasn't an apologetic man. But as he locked eyes with the colonel once more, he could see the regret and knew the apology was in fact genuine.

"I know," Face said feeling silently grateful for the moment.

Hannibal nodded, knowing very well that the man probably needed some time to fully trust him again. But somewhere deep in his gut, he knew it would be alright.  
Face stretched out a hand and with a small grin, the colonel took it. They shook hands in silence.  
There wasn't any more to say on this subject.

With a small groan, Hannibal got up from his cardboard box and stretched his stiff limbs.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to business now," he said matter of factly. "What's our status? How are the guys doing? Where the heck are they? And why are the cops here?"

Face got up too and sent him a wanly smile.

"Well, that's a long story," he said, still talking with a lowered voice. "But making a long story short: you kinda left us in a hassle here,"

"Meaning?" Hannibal inquired.

"Well…. Remember our two friends, Bert and Ernie?" Face said, using the adopted pet names for the two thugs they'd gagged and bound and left at the motel room for the police to find.

"Yes, what about them?"

"Well, you remember how we locked them up in that motel bathroom together with those two other thugs that we interrogated to find out B.A and Murdock's whereabouts, right?"

"Yeah, the two we stole the pickup truck from," Hannibal mused. "I hope they behaved...".

"Oh, those guys were fine," Face waved the jest away. "But when the police found the lot, Bert and Ernie were still non-responsive, so guess where they were brought for further medical examination?" Face asked airily, using his sarcastic tone of voice.

"Here?" Hannibal replied.

"Exactly," Face said. "And guess what they did when they woke up? They overpowered a cop and paid us a personal visit in our room. God knows how they even knew in the first place!"

At Hannibal's concerned expression, he quickly added: "No worries. We took care of them and our guys are fine!"

The colonel exhaled slowly as he, once more, felt a fresh pinch of guilt gnaw at his gut for leaving his men behind.

"So now what?" he said, observing his lieutenant who suddenly sent him a cunning smile.

"Now we wait for the ladies to finish the job," he said.

He fished an extra surgical mask from the pocket of his doctor's coat and handed it to the colonel.

"I think I should fix you a coat too," he added, eyeing Hannibal's current attire.

Then his look changed into one of exasperation.

"Wait a minute...Hannibal, is that my suit?!"

Hannibal sent his lieutenant an all but innocent grin. The conman sighed.

"You better haven't ruined them again," He wined. "You know how I hate it when you borrow my suits. You always wear them out. They're custom made, you know."

Hannibal laughed at this, relieved how much the conman sounded more like the old Faceman again.

"And by the way..," Face continued haughtily. "It hardly _suits_ you…"

Then he turned around, grabbed a roll of dark-colored duct tape from a box and fished a metal sign-board from under his coat.  
The conman put his surgical mask back over his face and gestured the colonel to do the same. Opening the door, he checked if the coast was clear.  
There were voices in the room where he knew that Doctor Jones, nurse Daisy, and the cops were busy explaining the situation. He thanked the heavens that nobody else was using this abandoned wing of the clinic at the moment. The two men stealthily entered the hallway. Then Face made a bee-line toward the door of the room he knew was vacated by his teammates. It was only a few doors away from the cops, and he was careful not to make any loud sounds. With his hurt hand, he clumsily tore off a few pieces of the sticky material while involuntarily cringing at every ripping sound he made.  
While Hannibal kept an eye on their surroundings, he slowly, but rather neatly, mounted the signboard to the door.

"There you go," He whispered to the colonel who turned around to admire his lieutenant's handiwork. "I gather that this will allow us some much-needed privacy from prying cop-eyes.

The sign had big capital letters in black and red, and read:

"CAUTION, QUARANTINED AREA - Authorized personnel only."

"It's a masterpiece," he said, grinning behind his mask.

"Now please fix me a coat, doc."

* * *

TBC


	22. Chapter 22 - Fini

Chapter 22 - Fini

Both disguised as doctors, Hannibal and Face stood listening at the door of the hospital room while trying to follow the conversation of the cops. It sounded like the two thugs had finally woken up. The policemen tried questioning them, but it seemed that the two were reluctant to share any information with the law. The officers then took them into custody and prepared them for transport.

"That's a relief," Face whispered behind his mask.

"Let's go," Hannibal nodded.

As one man, the two turned on their heels and quickly made themselves scarce before anyone would notice them. Hannibal followed his lieutenant toward the door with the big alarming quarantine sign on it. The colonel grinned again. He couldn't help feeling proud to see that the conman had taken a page out his commander's book. Hiding in plain sight happened to be one of his specialities. Even if the cops _were_ to search the hospital wing, they would at least stay away from a quarantined room. But Hannibal wasn't too worried they would even bother another investigation at this point. Except for the 'unfortunate' accident' of their clumsy colleague, nothing out of the ordinary had happened here, and the law enforcers already had their hands full with the commotion going on at the police station. These officers were just going to collect two suspects, and officer Stan's memory loss would help covering up some of the irregularities of his story. There was no reason to believe that they even had so much as an inkling to think that the A-team was involved and was hiding right under their noses unless the thugs would start talking. But he didn't think they would if they still thought they could save their hides by keeping their mouths shut. They still didn't know that Sartinaro was dead though…

"Murdock! You better still be in bed!"

Face's voice shook Hannibal right out of his pondering. Looking a little perplexed, the colonel heard a soft "Uhoh," And a hurried whisper that sounded much like, "B.A! Scoot Scoot!" before he entered the room.  
As he regarded the scene in front of him, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Not only was it good to see both men alive and (under circumstances) doing well. It was even better seeing them awake and somewhat back to their old antics. One of the beds was occupied with a disgruntled looking B.A who'd clearly been pushed aside on his mattress to make room for an unwanted visitor. Lying next to him, concealed under the thin hospital sheet, lay the crazy pilot who'd tried his best to hide himself from view, and failing with flair. If the brim of his baseball cap wasn't a dead giveaway, the irksom IV line attached to his arm and the metal standard definitely was.

"Boy, is it good to see you up again, B.A!" Face beamed at the groggy sergeant while giving him a warm pat on his good arm. "Thanks, Faceman," B.A said with a distracted shrug while glaring irritably at the big lump under the blanket that whispered: "I'm not here. Tell them I went to the loo or something."

Face sighed and folded his arms demonstratively.

"Murdock," he said, warningly. "I know it's you. Give B.A some space and get into your own bed!"

"Yeah man, Watcha doin' in ma bed, sucka!" B.A growled, as if suddenly realizing the fool was in HIS bed.

"I'm not here, you can't see me," Was the muffled response.

Face sighed and sent the colonel a desperate look. "I ordered him to take it easy and stay in bed. He has a cracked skull for crying out loud! But he won't listen!"

Hannibal chuckled.

"What's that, lieutenant? Are your soldiers not listening to your commands?"

The conman sent his commander a glowering look, but then suddenly seemed to realize something.

"Come to think of it, Colonel…" he said as his glare quickly changed into a shrewd smirk. "As you're back in command, it's not my problem anymore. He's _all yours_."

With a triumphant smile, Face sank down onto the only chair in the room, crossed his legs lazily, and sent the colonel a defiant glare.

"Fine by me," Hannibal shrugged with a twinkle in his eyes.

He turned toward the bed.

"Captain?! Back to your own bed, or you'll wind up without your Bellybustin' Surprise Pack from Hamburger Heaven next time we visit. That's an order!" he said with his stern commanding voice.

That seemed to have an instant effect.  
With a slightly red face, Murdock quickly slid from under the sheets, grabbed his IV pole, and dragged it along while making his way to his bed with hurried step.  
Hannibal grinned as he watched the pilot climb into his bed and slip under his blanket.  
He wasn't going to admit it openly, but he felt damn good to be back in control.

* * *

A couple of days later, the team found themselves in the small apartment of Mrs. Baracus in Chicago. They'd stayed at the clinic for another two days under the close watch of Dr. Carice Jones. But the moment B.A was fit enough to travel, they decided to move on, not wanting to put any more pressure on the doctor's more-than-generous hospitality. Hannibal assured her that they would always come to her aid whenever she needed it, knowing it was the least they could do for her support as she didn't accept any compensation for her help.  
Of course, Face had been a bit morose after having to leave nurse Daisy who he'd enjoyed being around, but after their arrival in Chicago, things had slowly started to settle down a bit. Hannibal had been keen on checking the news for anything out of the ordinary, but it seemed that neither cops nor military were on their trail which was something he was very grateful for.

Now it was afternoon.  
The white-haired commander sat on the sofa with the local newspaper spread on his lap. Momma B. was running some errands, and Face sat lazily on a recliner while reading a book. All seemed calm, though the colonel had noticed that the conman's eyes weren't moving. He wondered if it had something to do with the lanky man who'd just strolled by with a big fluffy pillow attached to his head. It was firmly held in place with a curtain rod that he'd tied into a knot right under his chin. It looked like he was searching for something.

"Ehh…. Whatcha doing, Captain?" Hannibal inquired.

Murdock looked up from his quest with a serious expression on his face.

"I'm gonna wake up the angry Mudsucker, colonel," he replied while opening a cupboard. "Because enough is enough!"

As the lanky pilot pulled a long broom out of the cupboard, Hannibal nodded understandingly. And even Face, who finally looked up from his book didn't seem surprised.

For the last two days, B.A had been residing in his old bedroom while avoiding the rest of the team and specifically Murdock. His main excuse had been that he required some rest and that he didn't want to hear "no jibba-jabba". But they all knew it wasn't exactly the case. Even though the big guy had insisted that he was fine and that he was just feeling a bit tired (which was highly unusual for him to admit in the first place), Hannibal knew there was more going on than met the surface. Something had happened between his sergeant and the captain, but neither of them felt obliged to tell him. They weren't exactly fighting. But B.A seemed different around the pilot, and he could see it was upsetting Murdock.  
Of course, the colonel had asked the pilot about it, but his answers had been more than evasive, to say the least. It was something between the two of them, and Hannibal knew it wasn't something he could easily cure by meddling. They needed to fix this between themselves. And by the looks of it, Murdock was going to take matters in his own hands about right now.

"Okay," Murdock said while making sure the head-pillow was still in place. "Hold on to your socks, guys. 'Cause I'm going in!"

With his broom at the ready, he approached B.A's bedroom door, raised a long leg, and kicked it open with a loud bang.

"What the..!" Hannibal could hear B.A yelp from a distance.

"RRRRROOMSERVICE!" Murdock shouted as he entered the room.

Face and Hannibal, still sitting in the living room, looked at each other while hearing a lot of incoherent bickering. The longer it lasted, the louder it became until they could easily follow the conversation without much effort.

"It's easy B.A. If you're not gonna listen to me, I'm just gonna call you Scooter again…NO, wait! Better yet; I'm gonna call you Scooteridoo!" Murdock said with a mocking voice.

"Go away!" B.A shouted. "Leave me alone, fool!"

But Murdock refused to go.

"No! You promised, B.A!" he said angrily. "You said that you would never stop telling me to shut up, and now you're avoiding me. That's not gonna happen!"

"I SAID, GET GONE!" B.A roared.

They heard things falling and breaking in the room.

"I WON'T!" Murdock shouted back. "And you can't catch me if you keep laying around here while stinkin' in that big bed of yours."

B.A mumbled something incoherently.

"Okay, if you're not gonna move, then I'm gonna sing!" Murdock warned.

Being true to his word, he immediately started something that sounded like the Yankee Doodle song, but with improvised words.

"STOP THAT FOOL! Stop making that noise!" B.A cried.

"Make me!" Murdock dared him.

There was another crashing sound of multiple things being thrown around. It seemed Murdock was making use of his broom to evade the flying objects.

"MISSED again, Scooter darlin', " Murdock tittered as he continued singing faster and louder.

There was a loud roar followed by another crash.

"Had enough, Scooteribooboo?" Murdock teased. "You're running out of ammo, pal"

B.A sounded desperately furious now.

"What about some opera, big guy? Do you like opera?" Murdock went on, not in the least impressed with the angry threats thrown at him.

Hannibal and Face raised their eyebrows at each other as they heard Murdock taking a deep breath and starting a wholeheartedly "O Sole Miooo"

Apparently, that was the last drop...

"Shut up fool! SHUT UP!"

"Fiiiinally!" Murdock sounded sincerely relieved at hearing it. "You're sure you don't wanna hear more?"

"I'll hammer you' mouth into lockjaw if you don't shut up right now!"

"You have to catch me first, you big, fat, lazy, angry mudsucker. You'll be eatin' heel dust long before that!" the pilot taunted.

"THAT DOES IT" B.A shouted " THAT does it! You're dead meat! Come here!"

A loud rumble inside the room and the breaking of more furniture made Face jump up to come to his friend's aid. But Hannibal lay a calming hand on his shoulder while shaking his head with a smile on his lips. Face looked at him questioningly but then quickly turned around as a loud "YIPPEE KI YAY!" startled him.

Murdock sprinted out of the bedroom and right into the living room with a wobbly B.A on crutches right on his tail. While passing his flabbergasted friends with a mad grin on his face, he flashed them a big 'thumbs up' before bolting out of the way. Huffing and raging, B.A pursued the mad pilot into the kitchen where the latter grabbed a big plate of freshly-baked cookies, made a quick u-turn and slipped right under the mowing crutches of his bejeweled friend. Then his cushioned head bobbed forward and he made a calculated dive into the bathroom where he locked himself in with his high-pitched trademark howl.  
B.A slammed his fists on the secured door while bellowing familiar profanities at his friend. But as he turned around and noticed Hannibal and Face staring at him, his scowl briefly vanished and he actually grinned at them before glowering again and resuming his yelling.  
As the conman shook his head in wonder, Hannibal laughed and took a cigar from his chest pocket while moving back to the sofa.  
It was 'this' moment, at the end of their long and taxing adventure, that the colonel realized that things were going to be back to normal.  
Still chuckling, he sat down, lightened his cigar, and blew a big cloud of smoke in the air with a satisfied sigh.

Yes, he really loved it when things came together.

FINI


End file.
